Drifting
by supernaturaldh
Summary: A tragic car wreck has left a seventeen-year-old Sam struggling to regain control of his life. An overprotective Dean wants to keep his kid brother safe, while an overzealous John pushes him back into the hunt. This is a continuation of Adrift.
1. Chapter 1

**Drifting**

**By Supernaturaldh**

**Summary: ** A tragic car wreck has left a seventeen-year-old Sam struggling to regain control of his life. An overprotective Dean wants to keep his kid brother safe, while an overzealous John pushes him back into the hunt. This is a continuation of the story - 'Adrift'.

**Author's Note:** Wow! I can't believe I forgot all about this story. Go figure, I was cleaning out my computer and ran across it, just decided what the heck, may as well finish it. Since it was written quite a while ago, I will be covering parts of 'Adrift' in my prologue and first chapter, just to set things up. To all my fan fiction friends, who asked for this story to continue, thank you so much for reading my stuff, it makes me smile each time I get a review from you and sorry this took so long.

**Beta:** Kokoda2007 and sometimes, no one. So blame me for all mistakes!

**Prologue**

Dean heard the rustling of paper bags; he smelt the aroma of greasy hamburgers. _Food?_ His stomach grumbled. He could open his eyes and look, but he wasn't quite ready to pull himself from his slumber. _Man, my stomach is still queasy_ . His headache had eased to a dull throbbing, the cool rag his father placed on his forehead helping immensely. He listened as his little brother opened the bathroom door; the clean smell of steam wafting out and assaulting his senses. He heard his father's garbled greeting to Sam. _Better wake up and eat now, it might make me feel better. _ He was about to ease himself up when he heard the light conversation between his Dad and little brother. He stopped his movements, and held his breath with each word. He listened as his father made the effort to be there for Sam, something he seldom ever did.

He heard Sam's nervous attempt to shrug his Dad off and the overwhelming relief in his brother's tone when he finally gave in and accepted his Dad's gesture. He listened attentively as they started reviewing the flashcards that Sam had not used in well over a week. His eyes never opened. He relaxed with their muffled voices and yawned.

He snuggled tighter into the pillow, their voices dimming into the background as exhaustion began to pull him under. He let their words roll over him; soothing him. He faintly heard Sam's giggles, and he smiled at the sound as he slowly drifted down toward sleep. _Maybe everything would be okay._

**Chapter 1**

**So Life Moves Forward**

Dean's mind was drifting toward oblivion, exhaustion at the last couple of months bearing down against him. The sleeping hunter moved restlessly on the bed, perspiration beading on his forehead. His eyes flitting hastily beneath his fluttering lashes; the memories of the night Sam had the horrific accident, the one that left him with a devastating injury, kept playing in his head

_Dean leaned down into his brother's hair, whispering soft reassurances. "Sammy, help is coming…I gotcha, kiddo, you're gon'na be fine Sam, fine…." Dean's fingers held gently, but firmly, to the bloody scrap of fabric across Sam's forehead. He was watching the kid intently, as his chest struggled to pull in every single breath of air. He prayed he would see those innocent hazel eyes again. He was scared, more scared than he could remember. He continued cooing comforting words in his baby brother's ear, his own thoughts running amuck. Where the hell was that ambulance? _

The doctor's words reverberated in Dean's lulling consciousness as his thoughts relieved every painful memory. He tossed and turned anxiously against the sagging motel mattress.

… _a broken arm, wrenched shoulder, various cuts, and contusions, but the thing I am most concerned about is his head wound… a severe concussion from his impact with the windshield…_ _a problem understanding speech, and expression… words are slurred. He knows what he wants to say, knows what he means, but he is having trouble getting the words out, his mind is not cooperating…_

Dean jolted awake, wild green eyes darting around the motel room, then, finally falling to his sleeping sibling. His brother's head was lolling on the table, droll dripping slowly from his open lips. Sam's gangly body was bent over in the chair, and the flash cards that he had been using were resting in a jumbled mess against grimy motel rug.

"How's you're headache?" His father's curious voice queried at Dean and he tilted his head to look questioningly at his Dad. He blinked and attempted to pull awake his sluggish mind. He gazed at Sam's slouched form, and dropped his head back heavily against the stiff pillow, slow whispered words escaping across his lips. "I'm f...fine."

"You were mumbling in your sleep." John acknowledged with a slight smile. He pulled his lukewarm coffee cup to his lips and swigged down the last of the bitter liquid. He nodded gently toward Sam. "Seems your brother was a lot sleepier than he thought; just nodded right off in the middle of a sentence." John chuckled and sat the cup down against the table with a light resounding thud.

Dean watched as his father stood stiffly, reaching down with large, calloused hands to hoist his little brother up. The older man gave a slight grunt with the motion and pulled Sam up from the shaky chair. He moved in three quick steps to the opposite bed and released his precious burden.

Dean pushed against the tattered blankets, swinging his legs around the mattress and setting up on the double bed. He watched silently as his father snuggled the blanket up around Sam, and then brushed his sleeping sibling's forehead with a light and gentle kiss. Dean blinked, completely taken aback by his father's actions. _Who was this guy and what the hell did he do with our Dad? _ Frustration rose in his chest until he had to look away from the image that this John was creating, one of love and understanding, one that he had a hard time grasping as of late. He stared blankly at the dirty rug.

"_So, when we leaving on this new hunt?" Dean's piercing green eyes gazed directly at his Dad; fingers busily cleaning the weapons._

_John Winchester stuffed garments into a duffle on the chair, eyes darting up to Dean and back to his work._

"_You're not." he offered flatly, "I need you to stay here with Sammy." He looked hastily up and then away from his eldest stern glare. He moved quickly to his weapons bag. _

_Dean's fingers stopped their motions as he glared curiously at his father. _

"_Why?" He questioned, confusion darting across his features. _

"_Listen Dean, Sam's head is not in the game. He wonders off, loses focus. The attitude, I just don't want to deal with it. Not while I'm hunting this thing that killed your mother."_

"_Dad…come-on. He's just a teenager. No different than I was. He likes going with us." Dean dropped the shotgun he was cleaning to his lap, eyes imploring his father to reconsider his opinion. _

"_No Dean, he's different. Sam needs to take things more seriously." John's tone was abrupt, and Dean felt his own anger turning up a notch. _

"_Sammy is a liability….always whining, complaining…." His Dad's words faded down to silence, and Dean looked keenly at his face._

"_What?" Dean furrowed his brow at his Dad's wide eyes. He felt the presence behind him, saw his father's face fall, and whipped his head around to see his younger brother standing in the doorway, eyes moist and large, mouth falling agape. _

"_Look Sam, I didn't mean…" His father stepped forward, eyes fixated on his youngest, his open hand reaching out toward him._

"_NO, Forget it Dad, I …I understand." Sam whispered as he brushed past his Dad and stomped heavy footed toward the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. _

"_Damn it, Dad." Dean snarled at his father. His concerned eyes followed his brother's hasty exit from the room._

_John rolled his eyes and dug his hand through his messy hair. A pissed off look settled on his face. "He'll get over it." He said abruptly, his fingers grabbing the duffle bag from floor and slinging it to his shoulder. "I'll be back in couple of days. I left $150.00 on the kitchen counter. Watch out for your brother." _

"_Dad…wait." Dean stood, eyes darting from the closed bedroom door and back to his Dad's face. But John was gone, the apartment door slamming shut, his voice echoing behind him, "I'll have my cell phone, call me." _

_Dean released an angry breath, and slammed his hand down against the couch cushion. He was left once again to deal with the aftermath of his fathers harsh words. _

He could still hear his father's harsh words as they reverberated in his head. _Sam could not be trusted on a hunt. He was a liability to them both_ . Worst of all, he could still see the devastation and hurt that had washed across Sam's face that day, the sadness that rested in his bright, young, hazel eyes. That thought alone, it almost made Dean sick. He remembered Sam before the accident, the geeky smart brother who always had a smart retort. He missed that Sam. He blew out a shaky breath and prayed he got him back.

7


	2. Chapter 2

**Drifting**

**By **Supernaturaldh

**Beta: **Sorry, you are in a beta free zone, all mistakes are my own.

**Disclaimer: ** I don't own them.

**Chapter 2**

**Back to Normal?**

Dean Winchester stared up at the motel rooms dirty ceiling, listening to his brother's gentle breaths as he slept. Their Dad had gone out about an hour ago, stating that he needed to pick up a few things. He sighed, figuring the old man had gone out for a beer. Dean knew better, knew his Dad, and John Winchester had needed to escape, to get away from his responsibility. His father had only called them to help out on this hunt out of sheer desperation. He figured he and Sam would head out tomorrow; go back to Middletown and Sam's doctor, get Sam back in his routine, speech therapy, rehabilitation, so he could get his life back. It was obvious that John was back in the hunt. Dean closed his eyes and sighed, he knew his father's little farce wasn't going to last too long, he was actually surprised it had lasted as long as it did.

The older brother tugged his hand up to rub at his aching head, his abrupt meeting with a cemetery headstone still making its self fully known. He turned slightly against the stiff pillow to gaze over at his brother's sleeping form. Sam was a lump in the other bed, his face completely hidden, just a mass of dark hair peaking out from beneath a mound of tattered blankets. Dean smiled tiredly, he remembered when Sam was little, how he liked to have his face nuzzled up against something soft and warm when he slept. He chuckled to himself, usually, that had been him. Now, that Sam was all grown up, he was all about pillows, and blankets, lots and lots of blankets. _At least the kid was getting some rest. _

The last two months had been hard on the Winchesters, but especially hard on Sam. A car wreck and a month in the hospital, well, that alone was overwhelming. Let alone having to deal with the after effects of a devastating brain injury and a part time Dad like John Winchester.

Dean sagged with the weight of the memories that assaulted him. He pushed his sore body to set up, his socked feet flinging uncoordinatedly down against the dirty carpet. His hands flailed momentarily as the room did a lazy spin, black dots dancing lightly in his vision. He reached his shaky fingers down to grip up a large clump of the ratty bedspread, holding his wobbly self steady. _Humph…still a_ _little dizzy here…_

He stared over at the mass of covers; he knew Sammy was under there somewhere, body shuddering at the memories of the car wreck and the desperate search he made for his little brother. He could still see the blood splattered against the shattered windshield of the Impala, the look of his brother's pale face when he found him semi-conscious in the snowstorm. He remembered vividly the concerned words of Sam's doctor when he advised them that Sam had a brain injury. That Aphasia was going to cause dizziness, confusion, and disorientation. That Sam was going to experience a problem understanding speech, and expression, and that he would have to relearn everything concerning communication all over again. The thought alone made Dean just want to cry. He hated that his smart little brother had to go through all this, that he had to struggle to get his life back. It wasn't fair, life at seventeen should not so difficult, but hell, their life had always been difficult, why would he think this would be any different?

He sighed heavily as the spinning room began to settle, his mind focusing in on Sam. He knew all Sam ever wanted was a chance to be normal, and by god, he would make sure that he had that chance; he would get him through this, with or without John Winchesters help.

-0-

The dark haired hunter dropped the empty beer mug back down against the sticky countertop. His eyes scanned the dimly lit bar and back to the bartender, who stared at him critically.

"You want another?" the large black man asked as he looked questioningly at the tired hunter. "You look beat, man."

"Yeah, guess I am." John's head tilted slightly, a sluggish smile curling to his lips. "Thanks I could use another."

The bartender filled up the beer mug and smiled at John. "Names Walker, Gordon Walker."

John pulled his large, calloused fingers through his wayward hair and nodded at his new friend. _That name sounds vaguely familiar._ "John, John Winchester." He tugged the full bear mug to his lips, sipping greedily at the bitter ale.

They sat in the empty bar in companionable silence for several minutes before Gordon leaned across the sticky counter, eyeing John suspiciously. "So, I heard of you, John Winchester, you're a hunter."

John's head rose quickly, eyeballing the bulky man in front of him apprehensively.

Gordon poured two shots of whiskey and sat them down between them.

"Sorry 'bout your wife." The man moved a glass toward John, sad smile rising to his lips.

John stared blankly; the pain of loosing his Mary still as fresh as it was the day it happened.

"I'm a hunter too." Gordon gulped down his shot and slapped the glass back down to the counter. "Fact, I just got back from a Wendigo hunt up in Colorado, man, it was a nasty son of a bitch."

John relaxed. "I heard of you too, Gordon, been hunting for a while huh?" The alcohol was finally making its way to John's brain and the hunter grinned cockily at the black man. He had heard of Gordon Walker knew of him from other hunters.

"I just do this on the side, you know, got to make ends meet." The hunter offered up freely as he poured two more shots and glanced at the clock. "Closing time."

Both men gulped down the bitter amber liquid without hesitation.

John watched as Gordon locked the front door, then grabbed up a second bottle of Jack Daniels and filled their shot glasses again.

"So let me tell you about this Wendigo hunt, man it was a bitch, three of 'um, a nest, couldn't' get them all by myself…."

John laughed, fingers gripping the shot glass and gulping down the lukewarm liquor with a smile. He listened attentively as Gordon Walker detailed his last hunt, felt the rush of excitement with his words, the time slipped gradually away from him, as the alcohol slowly took a hold.

-0-

The large thud of the motel door hitting the wall made Dean jolt instantaneously awake. His fingers gripped the buck knife beneath his pillow and in one swift motion he was on his feet. He panted out air as the room gave a slight waver. One moment he was asleep, the next, adrenaline pumping fiercely through his veins. _Protect Sam._

The streetlight in front of their motel room gave a low yellow glow to the two figures standing in the doorway, and Dean's body relaxed, breath evening back out, he recognized his father's large shadow immediately.

"Easy there, son." John's thick voice pierced through the darkness. "Get the damn light."

"Dad, what the shit?" Dean stuttered out in confusion as the Bowie fell lax in his hand and his fingers reached over and flipped on the bedside light. He looked at his sluggish little brother sitting up sleepily in the other bed, staring owlishly around the room.

"Go back to sleep Sam," Dean ordered.

Sam blinked obviously no where near being awake. He flopped boneless back down against the blankets, asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

The two men moved quickly into the room, both reeking of hard liquor and beer. Dean eyed them both critically. _Who the hell was this? _ "What the hell Dad, you scared the shit out of me."

John glanced at Dean, "This is Gordon Walker he's a friend of mine."

He pushed hurriedly past Dean and yanked up the duffle bags from the floor. He flung two bags toward Dean and moved hastily around the room, grabbing and stuffing as he went.

"Get your brother up, Dean, we got a hunt."

**-0-**

_A/N - And so, we are off…a hunt, a crazy man, (is that John or Gordon?) limp Sam, and big brother Dean – now what more could you guys want? – Denise-_

8


	3. Chapter 3

**Drifting**

**By **Supernaturaldh

**Beta: **You are in a world of thoughts and words, a beta free zone, and all mistakes are my own.

**Disclaimer: ** I don't own them.

**Chapter 3**

**No Turning Back**

Dean's mouth fell agape as he watched his father bounding around the room noisily cramming things into his open duffle bag. It was still dark, just around 4:00 a.m., and it was obvious that John Winchester hadn't returned to the motel to get some much needed sleep.

"Get a move on son, NOW." John ordered gruffly.

A large waft of whiskey floated to Dean's nose and it made his stomach churn. _Jesus, he smells like a damn distillery. _

"But Dad, don't you need to get some sleep?" Dean encouraged. He paused, fingers gripping tightly to the duffle bags now hanging awkwardly in his hands.

John spun around suddenly, dark liquid brown eyes leering angrily at his son.

"Don't freaking back talk me boy, just do it," he spat out in a sluggish slur, while shooting Dean an ungrateful glare.

Dean backed down, seeing the anger rolling off his father in waves. Unfortunately, he knew where this was going, there was no getting through to his Dad when he was like this, too much alcohol and not enough sleep; made John Winchester an ass.

"But Dad, the doctor said…." Dean voiced quietly, attempting to subtlety remind his slightly inebriated father of Sam's current condition.

"Damn it Dean, I know what the doctor said!" John hissed out furiously. He yanked one duffle bag back from Dean's lax fingers and hastily stuffed Sam's meager belongings inside.

Dean tried again. "But…Dad, you…you don't need us…"

John swung around abruptly, eyes leering at his son. "I know what I need and I NEED YOU ON THIS HUNT!" John bellowed loudly.

Dean glanced over as he saw Sam stirring on the bed. The big brother looked blankly back at their father, growing more uncomfortable with this whole scenario.

"Get Sam up and get in the freak'n car, that's an order!"

Without another glance the angry father nodded at the black man standing next to him, "Let's go," he said gruffly as he pushed around his oldest son. _Don't question my authority in front of a perfect stranger. _

Gordon shoved past Dean and followed the wild eyed hunter toward the door, a smug smirk curling to his lips. _An army man…alright._

Dean eyed Mr. Walker uncomfortably. _What the hell, was he grinning?_

"I'm going to check us out," John stated flatly as he tossed the car keys at Dean. "I'm riding with Gordon, you and Sam can follow in the Impala, get your ass in gear."

Dean's hand yanked up to catch the car keys. He stood in the doorway watching as his father's back retreated down the empty sidewalk. He glanced back over at Sam. _Well shit. _Hastily filling his own duffle bag, he waited until the last possible moment to wake his sleeping sibling.

**-O-**

The sun was barely peeking up over the tree line when heavy sleep laden lids fluttered open to gaze confusedly at the blurry figure in front of him. He blinked several times.

"Www? Wha's go...go…ing on?" Sam croaked out as he wiggled down deeper against the warm blankets that covered him.

"Na…uh, Sammy, time to get up." Dean gave his little brother another gentle shake and pushed the covers off Sam's gangly limbs. "Dad wants to hit the road."

The youngest Winchester quivered from the cold air, then tugged his hands up above his head, long arms arching and stretching as he yawned thickly and blinked owlishly back at Dean.

"Just leave your sleep pants and tee shirt on sleeping beauty. Put on this jacket." Dean instructed with a slight smile, "Don't want you catching a chill."

"I…thought…we…we…leavin'?"

Sam struggled to get out the words as he slowly sat up, toes curling against the dirty motel rug. He grabbed the hoodie from his older brother's hands and snaked it slowly on over his head. He swayed slightly and leaned his head down to watch tiredly as Dean eased his sneakers on his feet tying them like he was five. He could say something snarky, that he was a big boy and could put on his own shoes, but man; he was just too damn tired to do it for himself.

Finally, the youngest Winchester was dressed and Dean tugged him to his feet. He wavered slightly on wobbly knees, but felt strong fingers grip him at his elbow.

"You okay?" Dean's voiced with slight alarm.

"Ye...yeah I…I…j...just tir'd." Sam offered up timidly through half mast eyelids.

Dean nodded in agreement and smiled, "A month in the hospital will do that to ya."

Sam felt Dean's hand resting on his lower back steering him slowly out of the motel and to the waiting Impala. He succumbed as Dean pushed him down to the cool leather seat, helping him move his long legs beneath the dashboard. He bit back a small smile as Dean tucked a tattered blanket up around him, making sure he was warm.

"It's about freaking time." Gordon huffed out loudly, head leaning partly out the truck window, eyeballing both brothers with slight disdain.

Dean's eyes darkened. _Okay Dad, you can speak up anytime now. _

He closed the passenger door and glanced over to the impatient hunter. His green eyes fell to the sleeping John Winchester; head slumped against the passenger window of Gordon's truck, drool running slightly from his parted lips. _Figures, he's sleeping now. _

Dean leered at Gordon, shaking his head in minor annoyance as he moved quickly around to the driver's door.

"Let's go." He stated as he swallowed down his anger.

The heavy metal creaked as he yanked open the door and quickly slid inside. He reaved up the car's engine as he followed the dirty brown El Camino out onto the highway. _This guy is a real piece of work. _

Dean grimaced and floored the gas paddle.

_**-0- **_

The uncomfortable feeling of being stared at woke Sam out of a sound sleep. Sighing, he slowly opened his eyes and found himself face to face with a smiling Dean, sitting half turned in the front seat of the car, hand resting attentively against his shoulder-blade. Sammy gave his big brother a shy smile before raising his fingers to scrub the sleep from the corners of his crusty eyelids. He gazed around the familiar car and out the front wind-shield.

"W…whe'r we?" the thick, sleep laden voice, whispered.

"Stopped for lunch, you hungry kiddo?" Dean removed his hand, and reached for the car door as he stared at his little brother's face. _Kid looks tired still, and man he is way to thin._

Sam was suddenly ravenous, stomach growling loudly with Dean's words.

The older brother grinned as Sam tossed the blanket to the back seat and pushed himself up straighter.

"Ye…yeah, I c…could eat." The youngest Winchester stammered out as he grabbed for the car door and pushed to exit the vehicle. He grinned slightly when he realized his older brother, who had already bounded around the car, was now standing by the passenger door.

"Wh…wh…ere's Dad?" Sam's words faltered as he stood slowly up, fingers momentarily whit knuckling the doorframe. He felt Dean steady him with his solid grip.

"Already inside." Dean muttered, a slight unhappy twang easing from his lips.

Sam crinkled his face up inquisitively as he looked sideways at Dean. _He sounds pissed?_

Dean nodded toward the front window of the diner.

Sam's eyes moved from Dean's face to look curiously through the plate glass window, his father's dark hair and rumpled figure already easing into a booth across from a man that Sam vaguely remembered from the night before. _Something about a hunt, and leaving, but the details are a bit fuzzy? _

Dean tugged open the door to the diner, hand resting firmly against Sam's lower back. He pushed Sam lightly into the restaurant. Seeing the confusion marring the kid's face, the big brother leaned in slightly and whispered against his ear.

"Name's Gordon Walker, he's a hunter friend of Dad's."

"Oh," Sam's eyebrows arched into a curious V as he looked from his brother to his Dad, and then stared quizzically back at the man across from John.

**-0-**

John nodded at his son's as they slid into the diner booth, Sam next to him, Dean reluctantly easing in next to Gordon.

"How you feeling Sam", the father asked with obvious concern.

"I…I'm f...fine." Sam whispered.

"You a stutterer, kid?" Gordon asked curiously as he gawked at Sam like he was some kind of freak.

Sam sunk sullenly down into the bench, eyes downcast, staring at the sticky table top that now seemed to be holding all the secrets of the word.

John's first instinct was to sock the black man in the face, pin him to the floor and choke the living daylights out of him. But, that wasn't helping Sam - Sam, his baby, who was now going through the struggle of his life. His boy needed to accept his fate, be tough, and live with it. The father bit his tongue.

Dean looked at Sam, knowing how much Gordon's uncaring words had cut him to the quick. Sam needed encouragement not verbal abuse. He rolled his eyes and waited for his father to respond, and waited for his father to respond, and waited for his father to respond. _ What the hell? _His eyes darted up to John's dark brown ones, seeing no reaction whatsoever to Gordon's ugly words.

"Sam doesn't stutter okay," Dean hissed out, "he was in an accident." He glared at his Dad.

"Humph," Gordon said, self-satisfied grin twisting to his lips.

Deans green orbs beseeched his father to say something, but John just sat quietly, staring blankly back at Dean.

The waitress filled their coffee cups.

"So what'll it be boys?"

"Old-timers breakfast for me," Gordon stated.

"Same for me." John ordered.

"I'll have a short stack with sausage." Dean said as he still stared discontentedly at his Dad.

The waitress stood quietly peering down at the mop top of brown hair setting in the booth. "Hey kid, sometime today would be good," she ground out smartly.

John sat stoically in the seat, fingers gripping tighter to the cup of steaming coffee.

"P…p…p…" Sam stuttered nervously, obviously shaken by Gordon Walkers words and the waitress's abrupt manner.

Dean looked up at Sam, locking eyes with his little brother, the kid's face begging him silently to do something.

"He'll have the same as me." Dean hurriedly ordered, green eyes squinting into mere slits at the smartass waitress as he slammed the sticky menu down against the table.

Sam's body relaxed visibly as he heaved out a weary sigh and stared back down at the tabletop. _Thank you Dean_.

John glanced sideways at his youngest, the father chewing unconsciously on the inside of his lip. _Got to suck it up Sammy - be tough._

"So, tell us about this hunt." The senior Winchester asked as he dropped the hot coffee cup back down against the table. His heart was literally aching for his boy as he looked solemnly across the tiny booth at Gordon Walkers face.

**-0-**

_Awe...see there - John's got a heart in there somewhere! Reviews please…how's it going so far? Denise_

9


	4. Chapter 4

**Drifting**

**By: **supernaturaldh

**Beta:** Sorry, you are in a beta free zone, all mistakes are my own.

**A/N:** I am very sorry this has taken so long to update, and I promise to do better, really, I do! This story is a follow up to my story "Adrift", but you don't have to read it first. And, Gordon Walker is the same Gordon that shows up later, you know in episodes of Supernatural. So just go with it, okay?!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, but man, I wished I did.

**Chapter 4 **

**Hunters and Idiots**

Dean's eyes glanced across the bench seat to his little brother, Sam staring blankly out the passenger window as the scenery went flying by. They were making good time and would be in Colorado by midnight, his father and Gordon almost over eager to get back to the hunt. The older brother stared at the tail lights of the El Camino in front of him. Something about this guy, this hunter and this hunt, was making him extremely uncomfortable. He wasn't sure if it was what they were about to pursue, or the fact they were doing it with a jerk like Gordon Walker. He sighed, attempting to push his impulsive opinions aside, knowing that his father seemed to like Gordon for some reason. He glimpsed again at Sam. He was worried about him, wasn't sure his little brother was up for this. The kid needed to recover, get his life back before he did any hunting, but convincing John Winchester of that, well, it was a mute point.

The ride to Colorado had been done in complete silence, Sam not uttering a word since lunchtime in the diner. Dean knew the kid was having trouble, having a hard time accepting his life since the car wreck. He understood it, because, hell, it was hard on him too. He wanted his smart mouth smug little brother back, not this shy introvert kid he'd been riding next to all day long. He knew he had to do something to snap Sam out of the depression that seemed to be dragging him under. The doctor's words resounded in his head; _Sam has to want to improve, to get better, and has to want to get his life back. _

Dean cleared his throat, "Hey Sammy, where're your flash cards?"

Green eyes darted over to Sam as the kid gradually let his head rise slowly from passenger window to gaze blankly back at Dean.

Sam shrugged, and then nuzzled his face once again down against the foggy glass.

"Sam? I asked you a question." The older brother said almost demandingly.

Sam just blinked at him. "T t…t'rd," he stuttered out as his eyes fell slowly closed.

"Sam?" Dean peered cautiously at the pale faced kid.

A low snore emanated across Sam's slightly parted lips.

Dean shook his head in sheer amazement, but decided to leave Sammy alone right now. O_bviously he needs to rest._ He moved his hand to tuck the blanket up around his little brother, and then floored the Impala, the car speeding onward through the night.

-0-

The road worn travelers pulled into the Bear Creek Inn just outside of Gunnison National Forrest at 12:45 p.m., John Winchester bounding from the El Camino and checking them in a room. Dean sighed silently when his father shuffled back into the dimly lit parking lot tossing the extra key toward Gordon Walker.

"You can room with us," he stated matter of fact as he yanked his own duffle from the bed of Gordon's truck.

Dean looked in wide eyed amazement. _Son of a bitch, now the dude is rooming with us?_ He pulled open the passenger side door with the familiar squeak of old hinges and gripped Sam's shoulder lightly. Sam turned his head into Dean's palm, blinking open bloodshot hazel eyes to meet concerned green ones

"Sammy, we're here, let's get you inside and in the bed."

Sam yawned, and stood up on long shaky legs as Dean gripped him tightly by the arm.

The young hunter pulled away, "I… I…got…got it," he stuttered out in a low whisper.

Dean nodded and released his grip, eyes watching Sam closely. He moved around to retrieve their duffle bags from the trunk, eyes never leaving Sam as he moved unenergetically toward the room.

-0-

John Winchesters gruff voice pulled Dean from his slumber and he blinked in the early pre-dawn light. He felt confined as he realized his brother's long limbs were sprawled across his own, gangly arms slumped against his chest, head nuzzled firmly in against his shoulder. Sam looked so peaceful, long hair hanging limply across his closed eyes, slight smile curling on his lips. _Hate to move and wake him up._ After years of sleeping with his sibling, Dean was used to the fact that Sam liked to sprawl all over him whenever they had to sleep together, the kid had always taken up the entire bed.

"Dean, you awake?" his father's voice bellowed, hand slamming down against Dean's blanket covered knee. "Gordo and I are going to get some coffee."

Dean's head rose slightly from the pillow to gaze sleepily at his Dad. _Gordo, what the hell?_ "Uh huh," he mumbled, his head dropping heavily back against the bed, half mast eyes staring at his Dad.

Sam roused slightly, his fingers curling around Dean's tee shirt as he nuzzled in closer to his brother's side.

"Get your brother up, we got to do some recon today." John barked out the order.

Dean closed his eyes, nodding slowly at his father. He scrubbed a hand over his crusty eyes and watched John and Gordon leave the room, the door slamming loudly in their wake. He lay silently for a few moments, collecting himself and his thoughts. He knew if he didn't get up his Dad would be pissed, so finally, with much resignation, he opened up his eyes. He stared up at the ceiling for awhile. _Since when did Gordon Walker become his Dad's new best friend? Hell, he'd never even heard of him until three days ago._

"Sammy, time to wake up," the older brother moved to untangle himself from Sam's long gawky limbs. His little brother moaned slightly face furrowing up in a frown as Dean uncurled from him and dropped Sam's hand back down against the bed.

The older brother sat on the edge of the mattress, feet falling slowly to floor. He yawned and rested his forehead against his palm, sluggishly glancing over at Sam. Although the kid's eyes were closed, he knew that Sam was awake, just wallowing. Dean was used to this behavior, had seen it his entire life. Falling back into his normal big brother routine, he reached over and abruptly yanked the blankets from across Sam's dozing form.

Sam's eyes flew open, wild arms flailing out in an attempt to grab the covers back from Dean.

"D...d...Dean…S..Sstop it." Sam stuttered out; sleep laden hazels wide and unhappy with his older brother.

Dean immediately felt remorse as he heard Sam's stuttering plea. _Kid didn't need him messing with him right now; he had enough own his plate. _

"Dad and Gordon will be back in a bit; we got to be ready to go." The older brother pushed to his feet, sighing as he looked down at Sam's sleeping face. He pulled the blanket back up to cover his little brother.

Sam blinked open his eyes curiously and looked up at his brother. _Well, that's new; Dean never covered me back up when he took the blankets before?_

"I'm taking a quick shower, and then you, my dear little brother, will have to get up."

Dean's hand patted the blanked down tightly across Sam's chest.

Sam's long fingers tugged at the covers and he nodded silently. His hazel eyes drifted slowly closed. "T...T...Thanks D...d...Dean," he whispered, voice barely audible against the pillow.

Dean exhale noiselessly and moved to grab his clothes from his duffle bag on the floor.

Sam could hear the rustling in the room and the bathroom door quietly shut. He nuzzled deeper into the pillow. He drifted as the sound of the shower running, and the light humming of Metallica, lulled him back to sleep.

**-0-**

Gordon Walker turned the key in the motel doorway, eyes darting around the empty room. John Winchester was still outside, busy checking over his Impala, making sure all was well. Although he wasn't happy that John had brought 'the kids' along on the hunt, it was doable. After much consideration, he had realized, they'd be a great decoy when tracking Wendigos. He smiled wickedly.

The black man moved slowly into the room. He could hear the shower running in the bathroom, and knew at least one of the Winchester boy's had done as he was told. He dropped the greasy take out bag to the rickety table and looked over at the still sleeping kid. _John would not be happy 'bout that. Stupid kid must be retarded or something. _A slow grin curled to his lips and he laughed silently to himself. He eyeballed the large mound of blankets and the mop top sticking up above it. His hand reached and grabbed at the motel room door handle smiling wickedly with malice intent. The hunter flung the door shut as hard as he possibly could; the loud thud resounding around the almost empty motel room, rocking the walls and making a wild eyed, gangly limbed, kid jump bolt up right in bed.

7


	5. Chapter 5

**Drifting**

**By: **supernaturaldh

**Beta:** Sorry, you are in a beta free zone, all mistakes are my own.

**A/N:** I am very sorry this has taken so long to update, and I promise to do better, really, I do! This story is a follow up to my story "Adrift", but you don't have to read it first. And, Gordon Walker is the same Gordon that shows up later, you know in episodes of Supernatural. So just go with it, okay?!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, but man, I wished I did.

**Chapter 5 **

**A Phony in the Flesh**

Dean heard the loud bang as the motel doorway was thrown open. _Shit, what the hell was that? Sammy? _Faster than he even though possible, he was wrapped in the large white towel and bounding from the bathroom, dripping wet, gun gripped tightly in his hand. He stared around the room with trepidation. He blinked to clear his water hazed vision as he saw Gordon Walker standing, looking all innocent, right by the motel room door.

"Sorry," the black hunter mumbled, "The wind just grabbed the door or something, go figure."

Dean rolled his eyes releasing the shaky breath he was holding. _Was Gordon freaking smiling? _He glanced over to see Sam's shivering body sitting straight up in the bed, fingers clutching and gripping at the blankets, sleep tousled hair and wild eyes, staring back at him. _Kid's white as a sheet, damn door scared the shit out of him. _

"Sammy?" the older brother stepped closer, hand-gun falling to his side, "You okay?"

Sam blinked blankly at Dean and shuddered, "I…I…th….think…so," he stuttered out. "I…w..was asl..ep…w..w..woke up."

Dean dropped down to the side of the bed, mattress squeaking with his additional weight. He looked at Sam's stunned face. "Easy, Sam, its okay, just calm down, it was just the wind." The older brother huffed lightly and glared across at Gordon. "Since the accident, when Sammy get's upset, it's hard for him to talk."

The black men shrugged up his shoulders, "Hmph." _I don't give a shit, kids a retard._ He nodded at Dean and sauntered from the room, the doorway thudding shut in his wake.

Dean just shook his head.

**-0- **__

"Boys, Gunnison National Forests are huge," John Winchester stated as he handed each of his son's their backpacks and shotguns, from the trunk of the car, before he slammed it shut. The reverberation bounded through the trees around them.

Gordon Walker rolled his eyes and turned to walk up the trail. _What is this park history 101? _

John continued, oblivious to Gordon's exasperated face. "It's got spectacular granite cliffs and dense forests, and there's a river winding through right near hear, but it's mostly rapids and large rocks, so we don't want to get lost, or fall in the river." he chuckled as he winked at his youngest.

Sam grinned.

Dean nodded his understanding as he started up the trail behind his Dad and Gordon. "In front of me Sam." The older brother stated matter of fact. _ I think it's too soon for you to hunt, so you aren't getting out of my sight little brother._

"This area is steep, un-maintained, and unmarked, so stick together, you hear me?" John barked over his shoulder from up in front of them, he hastened his pace, in an attempt to catch up with Gordon who was further up the trail.

"We gonna' hunt this thing or talk all damn day," Gordon hissed out over his shoulder.

John hurried to catch up with his friend and slammed his hand against the larger hunters back. "I say we hunt, buddy."

Gordon momentarily lightened up and laughed. The two senior hunters moved rapidly up the trail, Sam and Dean following behind.

**-0- **

Dean watched the back of the three heads bobble right in front of him as they all moved silently up the trail. The Wendigo or Wendigo's –whatever, he grinned. Were supposed to be killing hikers about eight miles in, so he knew his father wouldn't stop until they reached that point. He frowned as he saw Sammy stumble on a rock. "You okay, kiddo?" he asked as he hurried three giant steps to Sammy's side. _I told Dad the kid needed boots, not half assed sneakers to hike in._ Placing a hand on Sam's arm to steady him, he looked intently at his little brother's face.

Sam allowed Dean to help him stand up straighter, he grinned at his older brother. It took a moment for the words he was thinking about so intensely to pass across his lips, but Dean could see he was really trying hard, and that made the older brother smile.

Sam whispered, "I. I'm f...f…fine, Dean."

"Okay then," the older brother grinned, "Let's go." Dean's hand ghosted across the back of Sam's neck, squeezing briefly, then, giving his little brother a light nudge. "Move it kiddo."

The younger brother smiled, and continued up the trail.

**-0- **

The evening sun was high in the sky when the weary hikers decided it was time to stop for a break and some lunch. John offered to stop several times, but Gordon Walker resisted, advising that they needed to find the creature or creatures and get this situation under control. It pissed Dean off, as he felt like Sam wasn't ready for all this, but he bit his tongue, let his father take the lead, or what little lead one Gordon Walker would allow him at this point.

Sam slumped against the side of a large pine tree, dirty sneakers sliding out in front of him until his butt thudded lightly on the ground. He heaved off his heavy backpack from his shoulder blade, just happy to set the lead laden article down. He crossed his arms on his kneecaps and laid his sweaty forehead down against it. _Man, this is quite a hike!_

Dean watched his little brother with some concerns; this was definitely a long hike up to the alleged hunt site. Sam already looked exhausted. _ It's too soon Dad, Sam's not ready. _ But did John Winchester listen? _ Hell no. _

"Here Sam," Dean's hand reached out and nudged Sam's elbow with his canteen, "take a drink of water."

Sam's head lifted, damp chestnut bangs sticking all twisted against his sweaty face. He reached his hand up, smiled warmly at Dean, and gulped down the lukewarm water. It wasn't cold, but it was wet, and it tasted awesome right this very minute.

"Hey Dean - catch." Dean's head darted up; his hand reaching in the air to grasp what his Dad was throwing their way. He glanced at the object. _Oh great, a really nutritious lunch – beef jerky. _ He ripped open the large package and handed part of it to Sam. "Here, eat this Sam."

"Oh b...b...boy," Sam muttered, "my…my… favorite."

Dean rolled his eyes and bit off a hunk of the freeze dried delectable, grinding it with his teeth; he swallowed with mock enthusiasm as he grinned at his little brother.

Sam giggled.

That sound alone lifted Dean's heart up, made him so happy that he thought that he might burst. Sam hadn't been laughing a lot since the accident; and it was good to hear the noise.

**-0- **

It was nearing sundown when the hunters reached their destination, the bluffs overlooking Gunnison River. Standing on the ridge you could see three miles in any directions, pine trees, water, and forest, as far as the eye could see.

"Okay, let's set up camp here." Gordon said as he pushed his pack with the tent in it toward Sam, thrusting up against the seventeen year olds chest.

Sam clutched haphazardly at the object, eyes darting up to Gordon, and then across to Dean.

John stopped his movements and started across at Gordon, who gave him a big old friendly smile. He glanced at his youngest. _It would do him good to put up the tent. _"Sam, put up the tent." John ordered as he moved back to his own pack, removing canned goods to fix for dinner.

Dean glared at the black man and stepped quickly over toward Sam. "I'll help you Sam." He said as his fingers reached for the pack holding the tent.

"Dean," John's voice resounded from across the way, "Let Sam do it; you go get some wood for a fire." The father never looked up, or turned to take in the situation as it was unraveling behind him.

"But, Dad…" Dean almost whined. _Sam's tired, needs to rest._

"It's kay…o…okay Dean, I g go got it." Sam whispered, his large hazels gazing at Dean, thanking him for his offer. The younger hunter tugged the tent up against his side. He dropped his backpack to the ground with a thud, then, fumbled with the tent, pulling it from its bindings.

Gordon Walker grinned smugly at both the younger hunters.

Dean's eyebrows furrowed. _ What the hell's up with this guy, why the hell's he grinning so damn big. _ The older stomped off into the woods; his eyes darting several times back over his shoulder to look at Gordon, who, by the way, wasn't doing anything except sitting on a tree stump watching Sammy work.

4


	6. Chapter 6

**Drifting**

**By: **supernaturaldh

**Beta:** Sorry, you are in a beta free zone, all mistakes are my own.

**A/N:** To all the loyal readers of this story, and you know who you are, I thank you. And yes, I agree with you all- Gordon is a sadistic B******!!! And I am just wicked…Enough said!!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, but man, I wished I did.

**Chapter 6 **

**Moon and Stars**

Sam nuzzled against the course sleeping bag, wishing he was tucked away in some out of the way motel room, sleeping late. _At least he'd have some room. _Instead, he was stuck out here in the in the middle of nowhere, cramped up in a small tent with his older brother so close he could barely move.

He heaved a sigh. He felt restricted in the tent, his long legs scrunched up against his chest. He gazed out the top vent, the moonbeams shifting through the hole. Dean's knee gauged him in the back. _Damn it Dean_. He gave his older brother a glance, but stilled when Dean seemed sound asleep. He shifted around some more. _This tent is not big enough for us both. _

Normally, he bunked in with their Dad, in the much roomier, larger tent, but this time, his Dad's friend Gordon, had taken up that spot. _In the freaking tent that I put up._ He tossed and turned around under the sleeping bag; breath heaving out a discontented sigh. He smacked his fist against the pillow in an attempt to fluff it up.

"Would you please be still," Deans' voice mumbled in the pillow.

Sam startled. _Dean's awake?_ "S…s…orry."

Sam settled, and stared back out the hole. He could barely see the moon. _I wish I talked better. _He needed to practice more. _But what if it doesn't get any better, what if I stay like this? _He glanced over at his sleeping brother as anxiety welled up in his chest. "Dean?" he whispered in a soft, barely audible voice, "You asleep?"

"What?" the older brother said with slight exasperation. "Not anymore," he mumbled.

"The...the doc...tor said I'd t...talk…be...better…r…right?" Sam queried softly, although he already knew the answer.

Dean blinked open his sluggish lids, staring with concerned blue-green eyes at his little brother's face. "Yes Sam, I told you that already, you will, I promise, it will get easier, the doctor said so."

Sam sighed; trust in his big brother evident on his face. "O...Kay," the little brother stuttered out.

Dean smiled and patted Sammy lightly on the arm. "Get some sleep bro."

Sam lay perfectly still, watching as Dean drifted off in slumber. He glanced back up at the moon and starts above them. He mouthed the word 'moon' silently, and then whispered it softly into the night, "Mo...M...moon…moon…moon." He smiled. _I can do this._

"S...st...Stars…stars…stars…Moon an..andd stars, moon and stars, moon and stars." He grinned. _It's getting easier – Dean said it would._

Dean smiled silently to himself at his little brother's words; he never opened his eyes, but shuffled deeper in against the warm sleeping bag. "Go to sleep Sammy," he whispered quietly in the dark.

**-0- **

The sun was out, a cold breeze blowing from the north as the four hunters moved slowly up the hillside. Their eyes peered in the brush and undergrowth, looking for a sign, any sign of Wendigo's around the wayward path. They'd been at this since sun up, trudging and hiking, in the woods.

Dean's stomach growled loudly.

Sam snickered and frowned at Dean.

The older brother grinned, and pulled a large bag from his pocket, and then waved it in the wind.

Sam smiled, eagerly. He reached his empty hand out to receive some of the contents of the golden yellow bag.

"Necter of the gods." Dean said cockily as his eyes rolled. He popped multiple colored M & M's into his mouth, grinning wickedly at Sam.

"P…P…Please." Sam stuttered out, open palm still facing Dean.

And Dean, who could never deny his little brother anything, immediately gave in.

**-0-**

Gordon Walker had a plan, not a good plan, but a plan, none the less. The Wendigo's hides would fetch a ton of cash, cash he needed in the worst kind of way. He knew John Winchester wasn't in it for the money, but damn it, he was. The nest of Wendigos was just what he needed to bankroll his hunt for vampires. He didn't want one Wendigo, nope, he needed at least three. A nest normally had at least four creatures, a very good hunt as far as he was concerned. He hadn't relayed this information to John Winchester just yet, figured that was a need to know. He'd skin the creatures, and then let John and his boys do whatever they wanted with the carcasses, at that point, he didn't really give a shit, all he wanted was the hides.

He hunter smiled to himself. If John knew the hunt was for multiple Wendigo's he'd probably be really pissed. Two was a lot, but more than two, well it was just plain dangerous. He probably wouldn't have brought his kids along. The black hunter shook his head in disbelieve. _What idiot brings his kids on a hunt anyway? But, hell, John's kids were hunters, or at least that's what he said. _Still, putting them at risk, well, he figured that was not something the widowed hunter would take to lightly. He decided from the beginning, the less John knew, the better, and besides, the younger kid would come in real handy, could be used as living, breathing bait.

He sadistic hunter grinned silently, shouldered his gun up against his side, and nodded at the senior hunter next to him. _Yes, this was going to be a real good day. _

**-0- **

They emerged from the tree line into a small clearing, the roar of water to their left. To their right was a thicket, a mass of brush and limbs, and lots of broken branches. The senior hunters eyed them intently.

Sam slumped against a large tree, happily munching on peanut M & M's he'd absconded from Dean's bag as he watched their father, and his friend, work.

Dean stood beside him; blissfully stuffing the tasty morsels in his mouth, like there was no tomorrow, causing Sam to giggle.

Dean laughed loudly at Sam; his brother's giggles always did that to him. He grinned and stuffed more of the bright cadies past his eager lips.

John's head rose and he gave both his sons an angry glare. "The limbs are broken, looks like there are tracks." He nodded at the Gordon, and pointed to the ground.

Both brothers abruptly stopped laughing, still grinning at each other.

"Looks like they go north," Gordon said anxiously.

"Yeah, it does." John agreed. "You go Gordon, take Dean with you."

"Nah, I'll lag back here with Sam, you and Dean go."

John looked surprised.

Gordon grinned, heart thudding wildly in his chest. "You know your oldest boy is anxious to get the kill, and you know you want to see it."

John smiled. _Gordon was right, he'd like to see his oldest make the kill. _"Yeah, yeah, you're probably right. DEAN, com're son." He shouted as he moved slowly toward the trees.

Dean grinned, mouth stuffed full of M & M's. He ran up behind his Dad. "Yes sir?" he garbled out.

John rolled his eyes, "If you can stop stuffing your face, maybe you could help me follow these tracks."

Dean brows furrowed, "What about Sam?" He choked, as the candy thickly swallowed down.

"He can stay here with Gordon."

Gordon smiled almost wickedly and nodded.

Sam looked hooded eyes at his big brother, face a mass of disbelief. _I always stay with Dean when Dad hunts._

Dean glanced from Sam, to John, to Gordon. _I don't like this idea_, "But Dad…I would rather…you and Gordon go and I'll…I'll just stay here with S…."

Gordon snickered incredulously. _Kid talks back a lot._

John's eyes widened, his voice cutting Dean off before he finished. "Damn it Dean." _Don't argue with me in front of another hunter. _"Get your ass in gear."

Gordon grinned smugly to himself.

Sam's shoulders slumped as he looked dejectedly at the ground.

Dean nudged the bag of M & M into Sam's open hand, the kid's eyes rising to look him in the face. "It'll be okay Sammy," the older brother whispered as he turned to follow his Dad. He glared heatedly at Gordon as he passed him. "You," Dean's finger poked the African-American in the chest, "better watch out for my little brother."

Gordon grinned, "Don't you worry none Dean, 'cause I'll take care of Sam."

4


	7. Chapter 7

**Drifting**

**By: **supernaturaldh

**Beta:** You are in a beta free zone, all mistakes are my own.

**A/N:** Well, I am finally back to this story; I got sidetracked on other projects. I refuse to leave it unfinished any longer though, so get ready, cause the angst, limp Sam, and big brother Dean are about to run amuck!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, but man, I wished I did.

**Chapter 7 **

**Bait and Switch**

Deans boots crunched against the crusty snow covered ground; the cold wind whipping through the trees. He tugged at the collar of his lightweight leather jacket and glared back over his shoulder at his father. He wished Sam were here beside him. He didn't know why, but something about Gordon gave him a very bad feeling. He cleared his throat nervously, contemplating how to breech the subject with his Dad. His eyes continued to dart around the brush and brambles, searching, peering, and tracking the Wendigo, while his head was a mass of jumbled up thoughts.

"Ah…Dad," he finally whispered, face still focused on the ground, "I don't know about leaving Sammy…you sure he'll be okay?"

John sighed loudly just behind his eldest. "He'll be fine," the older hunter hissed. "You got to stop treating your brother like a baby."

John pushed past his boy.

The sandy haired son rolled his eyes. "But Dad," he moved quickly up behind his father, "Sam's still recovering from the car wreck…it's just…well; I just don't trust that Gordon guy…"

John frowned disapprovingly at his son's words. He turned slowly to gaze into the younger man's face. "He's a hunter Dean, a friend of mine, which should really be enough."

Dean stopped abruptly, almost running into his father's larger form. "I don't think he'll watch out for Sam," he stated flatly as he glared at his Dad. He watched as John's expression went from calm to pissed off in one brief moment, and then just as quickly, morphed into silent intrigue. He looked in confusion at his father.

The senior hunter nodded at a tree off to Dean's left, some fifteen feet ahead. "See that?" He voiced excitedly.

Dean peered quizzically at the tree.

John hurried toward it.

Dean shrugged up his shoulders and followed silently behind. _It's no use- he'll just never get it… _

John's agile fingers probed and prodded at the torn tree bark. "We're close," he muttered, "that's weird, see here son, "he pointed to the tracks in the mud. "Two sets of tracks." His brows furrowed in a V. "Watch your back," he advised warily as he stood up straighter, dark eyes darting all around. "I think there's more than one."

Dean's eyes grew wider as he clutched his finger tighter against the trigger of his gun.

The father trudged quickly forward, conversation with his boy all but forgotten, as he moved at a fast pace against the bank of cold air and the slowly dimming light. _Something was amiss about this whole hunt, something he couldn't quite put his finger on._

**-0- **

Gordon Walker smiled smugly to himself. He may be a lot of things, but stupid wasn't one of them. His little plan was going off without a hitch. _Amazing_. John and Dean had stomped off up the hill, just like he had wanted. _John Winchester was so predictable_. He smiled. The hunter had fallen right into his little trap, leaving his youngest here with him. He grinned cruelly at the back of Sam's chestnut head - the long limbed, gangly kid would make a great appetizer for Wendigos. _This is way easier than I thought - that retarded kid will keep the creatures busy._ More hides for him to get.

Sam stood silently; staring after the last place he had seen his Dad and brother. He chewed unconsciously on his lower lip, anxiety with his current situation gripping at his gut. He didn't like this Gordon character, of that much he was sure. He turned uncomfortably to stare at the hunter's face.

The black man grinned manically across at him. 'Com're kid," He said with a grunt.

The seventeen year hesitated momentarily, but then, did as he was told, and shuffled closer toward the hunter.

"You know Wendigo's are a strange lot of creatures," Gordon offered up as he gripped the barrel of his shotgun with both hands and walked slowly around Sam. "Bet you didn't know sometimes they travel in packs." He smiled wickedly. "They feed at dark." He hissed out with a grin.

Sam nodded his head. "Ye…ye…ah, D…Dad t…told me...me…and D…Dean that," he stuttered out with a slightly knowing smile. _This thinks I'm stupid, like it's my first time at the rodeo. _

Gordon paced behind Sam. "Dad…dad told us…." Gordon mocked Sam's works in an ugly sing-song voice.

The youngest Winchester frowned and tilted his head. _Is he making fun of me?_

Sam slowly turned on his shoes, watching the black man warily out of the corner of his eye. He was about to tell Gordon to screw off, that he wasn't an idiot, that he knew about hunting, but, a sudden blur next to him caught his eye, then pain sliced quickly through his skull - A white hot, blinding pain.

He gasped.

The shotgun fell limply from Sam's fingers as everything grayed around him. He swayed precariously on his feet. _What? _He drew his hand up to the side of his head where the pain was so intense it brought teardrops to his eyes. He felt a warm dampness as he fingers moved shakily through his too long wavy hair. _What's happening? _His vision tunneled as he blinked blankly at the face suddenly right up in his own.

"Yep, Wendigos like LIVE bait." Gordon's voice hissed, as his hot breath bounced off Sam's incoherent face, "And it's feeding time, boy."

Sam wavered on his feet, looking uncomprehendingly down at his blood covered hand and back at Gordon. He blinked in confusion. _Where's Dean? _ His body shuddered. His hands automatically grabbed for the older hunter, attempting to hang on to something solid as he visibly swayed on his feet. _Dad? _ The trees spun in a lazy circle and he fought to stay upright. _Head… hurts._

Gordon pulled away from the weakly flailing hands. He smiled cruelly as he watched the youngest Winchesters sway, then slump slowly toward the ground.

Sam distinctly heard Gordon Walker's maniac laughter as everything faded into black.

-**0- **

"Dad…it's getting dark…shouldn't we head back?" Dean questioned as he tracked the Wendigo's right behind his Dad.

John huffed out a weary sigh. "Well, it's hard to track them in the dark, that's for sure…I think they've circled back." The hunter shook his head.

Dean stopped, free hand rising up to grip his father by the arm. "What?" he whispered in concern. "What do you mean?"

"I think the nest is back the other way, not sure why Gordon wanted us to follow these tracks. They feed at the nest at dark. I'm sure he knows that…he's hunted them before."

Dean's concerned green eyes glared intently at his Dad. "Son of a bitch, we shouldn't have left Sammy with that idiot."

John clamped down on the fear that was churning in his gut. _Something is not right about this? _He turned around and looked keenly at his son, keeping his voice steady, he voiced calmly, "Let's head back."

Dean whipped around, feet moving quickly as his body attempted to keep up. _How long had they been gone, how far away was Sam?_ His hasty steps slowly morphed into an all out jog.

John tugged a flashlight from his coat pocket and quickly flicked it on. "Dean, slow down, son, you're gon'na fall in the dark." John wheezed out between gulps of air as he ran stumbling down the muddy, slippery hill. "I'm sure Sammy is fine."

**-0-**

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	8. Chapter 8

**Drifting**

**By: **supernaturaldh

**Beta:** You are in a beta free zone, all mistakes are my own.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, but man, I wished I did.

**Chapter 8 **

**This Guy was Nuts **

The silhouette of the crescent moon hovered in the black night sky when Sam finally awoke, his unfocused eyes gazing blearily out into the darkness. He blinked sluggishly, his head bobbing lightly on his neck. He squinted and peered into the night. He could feel the cold wind whipping on his face, the damp grass soaking through the butt of his blue jeans. _Where am I?_ He struggled to move, and that's when he noticed the tight rope that was cutting into his wrists, his wrists, that were attached to his arms, that were stretched tightly behind his back holding him hostage against a large oak tree. _What?_ He pulled and tugged at the bindings with what little strength he had. It was no use. He couldn't get undone. He struggled a little longer, then sighed heavily, and gave up.

He rested the back of his head against the tree trunk. He felt blood seeping slowly down the side of his face, smelt it, felt its warmth as it ran in his left eye and blurred against his vision. His brain was addled, not cooperating; his thoughts jumbled and confused. He couldn't quite figure out how he got in this predicament. All he knew was he was cold, and more tired than he ever remembered being, and his head hurt, bad. He closed his eyes.

His chin fell heavily down to rest against his chest as a sharp pain ripped through his skull. He grimaced. He swallowed convulsively, in an attempt to gulp down down the warm bile that was slowly welling in his throat. It was a futile battle as it bubbled up and into his mouth and suddenly, without warning, spewed out across his lips. The warm liquid dribbled down his chin. He blinked in confusion. _Am I throwing up on myself? _His mind wasn't clear, but his sense of smell recognized the distinct odor of puke as it soaked through his thin white tee shirt and made him gag some more. Warm tears welled in his eyes and ran silently down his pale, discolored cheeks, mingling with the blood, and his regurgitated lunch.

In the distance he heard someone laughing.

He closed his eyes again and prayed the spinning world would stop. 

**-0-**__

Gordon Walker glanced at his captive; the kid seemed to be waking up. Wait, was he upchucking on himself? He was. It made the hunter laugh. This kid was sure to draw in the Wendigo's smelling like regurgitated food. He cackled heartily and hunched down further against the tree; his body hidden by the bushes as he waited for his pry. He grinned wickedly. Not one Wendigo, not two, but possibly three were his for the taking. He was a happy man. He'd let them have at Sam, shoot them, then untie the youngest Winchester, his family none the wiser. Yes, it was a good plan, and it was going off without a hitch. Amazing.

**-0-**__

John stumbled along behind his eldest; Dean running through the darkening woods like there was no tomorrow. The older man heaved in a deep sigh with his rush to take in air. Leaves and branches flailed and whipped at him across his face in the wake of his madly moving son. Normally; he'd call Dean on it, chew him out, but not this time, not now. His mind was racing. A Wendigo, more than one Wendigo, a nest, and Sammy there, alone, with a hunter he barely even knew. Oh God, what was wrong with him, he ran faster, practically falling over Dean.

Dean eyed his father from his periphery. John did not look happy. The father picked up his pace in one quick burst, Dean followed suit. They had to get back to Sammy, and they had to do it now.

**-0- **

Gordon cocked his head to the side, what was that? He listened keenly, eyes glaring in the dark; the rustling of leaves, the scuffling of something on the ground. He smiled, come on babies, come to papa. His eyes fixed tightly on the youngest Winchester as he raised his shot gun to his shoulder. He waited.

Sam slowly came to, his head bobbling on his neck, his face rising up, bleary eyes looking in the dark. _What's going on?_ He couldn't remember. _How'd I get here?_ _Why can't I move my arms? _He tugged at the bindings holding him firmly to the tree. The ropes cut harshly at his skin and he moaned. He heard a rustling noise. He stopped his movements, and raised his head, staring at the dim shadows directly in front of him. He squinted. He could only just make out what looked like a person, off to his left, hiding poorly in the trees. He couldn't see who it was, but it was someone, he knew that much. "Hey," his shaky voice whispered, "Dad? Dean?" The figure didn't move.

Sam thought that was strange. Why didn't Dad or Dean help him? His memories were skewed at best, but he remembered something about a hunt, Wendigos…a hunt…oh God, Wendigos. He pushed and shuffled his shoes against the leaves, wanting to get undone, to move, to hide. "Help me," he yelped at the figure. It didn't move.

Suddenly, he heard a loud rustling in the bushes to his right. He stopped, whipping his straining hazels to see among the darkness. A large shadow moved slowly, lumbering directly in front of him. His eyes darted from the person he could barely make out to his left and back to the mammoth creature now moving out of the shadows. _Oh god, somebody help me._ He tugged wildly at the ropes.

The creature grunted and groaned, then moved directly in front of Sam. The youngest Winchester held his breath, his father's words ringing in his ears. _No sudden movements, be perfectly still. Don't provoke a creature in the wild._ The large creature squatted, huge bulging eyes taking in the youngest hunter's face, sniffing, snorting, and pulling in his scent.

I'm so screwed, Sam thought. He didn't move, the hot putrid breath of the creature making him want to gag again. He fought the urge, holding the contents of his stomach where they were, knowing if he spewed, he was a goner. He bit his lip, stock still, he waited, wide eyes staring at the monster. _I'm gon'a die here._

The creature raised his paw, sharp claws gleaming in the night. Sam knew it was meant for him. He closed is eyes.

Suddenly, a gunshot rang out through the darkness, and the massive creature screeched. It staggered slowly backwards.

_What was that?_ Sam squint open one eye, almost afraid to look, he watched in stunned silence as the Wendigo staggered backwards. "Dad? Dean?" he yelled frantically. He yanked his feet quickly up, knees tugging to his chest, barely missing being pinned beneath the large creature as it swayed, then fell against the ground.

A movement caught his eye and he looked to this left, Gordon Walker moving closer to the Wendigos side. "Nope, just me, boy." The black man grinned down at Sam, "Good job being bait." He kicked his booted foot at the now dead Wendigo and laughed.

_What? _Sam sucked in a shaky breath, blinking several times in an attempt to clear his bleary eyes.

"One down, two to go." Gordon offered with a smirk.

"Huh?" Sam tugged viciously at his bindings, "You're crazy." He yelled.

Gordon's shoe came up to kick him in the face, "Watch your mouth kid."

As his vision temporarily faded, Sam thought, man this guy is nuts.

3


	9. Chapter 9

**Drifting**

**By: **supernaturaldh

**Beta:** You are in a beta free zone, all mistakes are my own.

**A/N**: Thanks Ziggy- read on, and you'll know why…You rock girl!!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, but man, I wished I did.

**Chapter 9 **

**No Silver Lining **

Sam glared at Gordon with what little strength he had.

The tall hunter stepped forward, pulling a silver axe from his belt loop.

Sam pulled away, hands struggling with the rope that bound him to the tree. His shoes pushed and shoved against the leaves and mud, the hairy creature lying limply on the ground beside his feet.

"Don't worry kiddo, its dead." Gordon grinned sadistically. He swung the axe lightly around in front of Sam's face - like the sharp edged item was nothing. His fingers twisted it to and fro right by Sam's nose, making sure the kid could see it.

"Wendigos are notoriously hard to kill, few weaknesses, as far as weapons are concerned." The black man grinned at Sam. "It can only be killed by iron or steel bullets and then needs to be decapitated with a silver axe. Watch this," he said antagonistically.

Sam's eyes grew huge as he watched the axe rise up not an inch in front of his face; he yanked his head back, cringing. His legs shimmed up against him, attempting to get out of the way.

The axe swung.

Sam's body tensed. His eyes instinctively shut with the abruptness of the motion. His breath shuddered to a stop. He felt a breeze rush quickly past his face.

A loud crunch - Blood, tendons, and muscle spattered out in all directions, drenching Sam.

Sam jumped reflexively. He erratically heaved in oxygen. His body shook as he felt the axe rise up and down several more times, Gordon grunting with every swing.

Several quick motions later and the Wendigo's head rolled gingerly on the ground to rest by Sammy's feet.

Gordon slumped back to his haunches, spent and gasping for some air. The axe was still gripped tightly in his hand.

The youngest Winchester blinked open wide eyes, looking at the creatures rolling head and back to Gordon. He shivered uncontrollably. "J…J…Jesus," he stuttered out.

Gordon smiled, mopping his blood matted face with the back of his tattered coat sleeve. "Liked that, huh kid?"

**-0- **

The hunters ran.

The night was dark, a velvet black blanket hovering in against them.

And they ran.

Fog was starting to move in, clouding their land marks, making it gloomy and very hard to see.

John stumbled. "Stop," he voiced suddenly. He stuttered to a stop. His body heaved to pull in oxygen. His gun dropped down beside him as he leaned forward and rested his hands against his knees. "Son," he yelled between wheezing gasps for air, "Stop! Now!"

Dean ran several more yards before he came to an abrupt halt and turned to face his father. He sucked in air. Sweat drops rolled silently down his face, stinging at his eyes, as he stared blankly at John. "What?" he rasped.

Both men stood in silence, looking expressionlessly at each other, bodies hungrily pulling in the cold, damp evening air.

John pushed to stand back up. "Are we even going in the right direction?" He panted, and then looked curiously around.

Dean's brow furrowed as he quickly took in their surroundings. He tilted his head slightly, "I think I hear Gunnison River." He offered up as he looked keenly at his father. "We need to go." He whispered anxiously, body jumping unconsciously on the balls of his feet, legs shuffling nervously from one foot to the other.

"Dean," John stepped forward, "Just wait a minute, son, let's get our bearings here."

Dean's whole body tensed. "But, Dad, we got to get to Sammy," Dean all but whined. Moisture rose to his emerald green eyes, he quickly blinked it back and dropped his face to look vacantly at the ground.

"I know son, I know, but we been out here all afternoon, we hiked a long way." He watched as his oldest seemed to sag. He reached his hand up to grip Dean by the arm.

Dean's head rose, bright eyes gazing at his Dad.

"Listen, I know we need to get to Sam, but we don't have time to run around in circles. It's dark Dean, and these things, these Wendigo's, they're a good hunter in the daylight, but at night, they are unbelievable."

Dean nodded slowly. His Dad's words didn't make him feel any better. Sammy was out there, all alone, in the dark, with Gordon, a hunter he didn't trust. And then, there were at least two, maybe more, hungry Wendigos on the prowl. _Jesus, could this get any worse? _ "I knew I should have stayed with Sammy," he whispered out forlornly.

John's hand dropped away, he glared heatedly at his boy. "Listen, don't blame yourself, I know we didn't think this through."

Dean's face contorted into a disbelieving look.

"We?" he said incredulously. "You…you didn't think this through, it was you who didn't think Dad."

Right now the older brother didn't give a shit if he pissed his father off our not. John Winchester wasn't thinking about Sam at all, wasn't thinking about anything but the freaking hunt, just like always, the man would never change.

"It's not always about the hunt, Dad!" Dean hissed.

John's mouth fell agape, stunned at the anger in his eldest deep green eyes.

"You know what…" Dean scrubbed a hand across his sweat damp face. He stepped closer to his Dad.

"You…you just seemed to get all sucked into Gordon's crap, as usual, forgetting that your son," Dean's voice was shaking now, anger permeating from every pore. "My brother," Dean choked. He flung one hand up, his finger pointing at his Dad. "My brother is recovering from a major head injury." He blew out a heated breath. "God!" He muttered angrily, "You really piss me off."

John stood silently, mind soaking in Dean's words. He hadn't seen his boy this angry in…well, in forever. _Kid's probably right; he usually is when it comes to Sam. _

Dean turned his back on his father, shaking with unrestrained rage, pacing like a caged animal.

Finally, after several tense seconds, John muttered loud enough for Dean to hear. "We don't have time for this shit."

Dean turned to face his Dad.

John pushed harshly past his oldest son, and stumbled blindly forward in the dark. A tight feeling welled up in his chest and he felt the need to blink back the excessive moisture that was accumulating in his eyes. He swallowed down his anger, his remorse, his disappointment with himself, and moved faster through the woods.

Dean sighed, shook his head in disbelief, and followed right behind.

**-0- **

The stench of dead Wendigo was bad and Sam wriggled up his nose, his eyes watered as he attempted to breathe in and out through his mouth. He looked down at his blood soaked clothes, not knowing what was his, and what belonged to the dead creature lying by his feet. His head was one non-relenting throb, his vision still waning in and out. He peered blankly into the darkness. _Where's Dad? Where's Dean? _He chewed on his lower lip, attempting to hold his tears at bay. His body shuddered now uncontrollably, and he didn't know if it was from the cold, or the shock of what he was watching. He yawned and looked on sluggishly as Gordon skinned the creature with expertise, removing only the large hid across its back.

Gordon glanced up from his work to see the youngster looking blankly at him. _Kid's impressed. _He smiled warmly.

The youngest Winchester saw a brief opportunity here. "I…I…I…c..c..could help y..y..you with th…that." He offered up with a nod of his head. _ Maybe the idiot will untie me, let me loose, and then I can run. _"If y…you'd u...u…untie me."

Sam forced a weak smile to his face.

Gordon stopped his work and looked perplexedly at Sam for a long moment. He snorted. "I d…d….don't th…th…think so, kid."

Sam rolled his eyes, and Gordon laughed and laughed.

5


	10. Chapter 10

**Drifting**

**By: **supernaturaldh

**Beta:** You are in a beta free zone, all mistakes are my own.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, but man, I wished I did.

**Chapter 10 **

**A Brief and Sudden Moment **

Gordon Walker grinned at his little joke. He yanked up the Wendigo hide with his blood gory hands and stuffed it gingerly inside his empty backpack.

He smirked at Sam.

Sam shook his head attempting to clear his hazy vision. _Who was this guy again? _He sighed shakily and leaned his matted, blood soaked hair back against the tree. He was so tired. _Why was he here again? _His thoughts seemed like a jumbled mess. He blinked his sluggish hazels as he watched Gordon through silted lids. _Why am I so cold?_ He shivered intensely.

The crazy hunter pushed to stand and swiped his blood coated hands down the front of his worn blue jeans, attempting to rub away the grim, the guts, and gore.

Sam's closed his eyes. All hope of being cut a loose from his bindings disappearing with the drifting of his thoughts. _What's going on? Where's Dean? Why can't I move my arms? It hurts…. _

Gordon watched silently as the young hunter's eyes fluttered shut his head falling limply to rest against his chest. _Kid was down for the count…_ He smirked. He'd just leave the dead Wendigo here, and the others – they'd come now; it was just a matter of time. They'd smell the warm blood, come back to the lair and he'd be waiting. He leered at the unconscious Winchester. _Or rather, Sam would._ He grabbed up the blood soaked backpack and flung it up against his shoulder. He made his way silently to his hiding place, in the darkness of the night.

**-0- **

John stopped abruptly, Dean practically mowing him over.

"Humph," the younger man exclaimed as he stumbled against his father's back.

"Shhhhh," John's hand came up as he whipped his head around on his neck and stared with alarmed eyes back at Dean.

Dean recognized the look. He stood stock still. He knew something was up. He waited, fingertip quivering lightly on his gun.

A low rustling sound caught both hunters attention.

John motioned with his hand, fingers flailing to the side, some fifteen feet ahead of them. "There," he mouthed.

Dean nodded. He knew what to do, he'd been hunting with his father for years, knew his movements, knew when he needed backup, and where he wanted Dean to be. The sandy haired hunter crouched down where he was, shotgun at the ready, as his father eased quietly forward, eyes peering intently in the dark.

Suddenly, the beast was upon them, charging madly from the brush.

John felt the being lunge at him just as his gun was going off, a loud boom piercing in the darkness. John fell to the ground. The creature screeched, then stumbled and faltered, but it didn't stop, kept moving, and screaming loudly as it went.

"Shit," Dean heard his father mutter.

John scrambled backwards, legs and arms wind milling in an attempt to get clear of the Wendigo.

Dean's hands were steady as he focused on the mammoth creature barreling down against him. He wanted to jump from the path, get out of the way, run, but he knew better, knew his father was counting on him, Sam was counting on him. He waited, it had to be a silver bullet through the heart and he had to take it now.

His finger pressed the trigger.

**-0-**

Sam's eyes jerked open suddenly from something. He wasn't sure exactly what it was. He blinked and looked blankly at the darkness. _What's going' on? _His head throbbed with every beat of his heart and he tugged harshly at his bindings. The movement sent blinding pain up both his arms.

His nose snarled up, the rank smell drifting in around him. _God! _It was terrible – something was dead. Memories immediately flooded back to him, and he blinked his eyes to see. He glanced down at his boots, the mangled remains of the dead creature setting at his feet. _The Wendigo?_

"Ewe…" he whispered.

"Shit," a voice muttered loudly in the darkness to his left.

Sam blinked, and strained his eyes to see. Someone was there, hiding in the shadows. _Who is it? _He couldn't quite remember._ I should know this_. He sighed, straining his aching head to figure it out, but the memory didn't come.

Another gunshot and Sam jumped with the surprise. _A gunshot?_ Pain flared harshly in his head. He panted through the throbbing and swallowed convulsively. Hot bile was pooling in his throat. _Don'tthrowupdon'tthrowupdon'tthrowup. _

"Son of a bitch," a voice muttered angrily. "Damn Winchesters."

"H..h..hello?" Sam stuttered. His heart thudded in his chest. _Who's there? _Loud footsteps pounded in the mud and leaves moving closer to his side. He pushed back against the tree trunk attempting to hold his wobbly head steady, to see who, or what, was moving toward him. His fear retched up a notch.

Suddenly, a large black man was hovering in front of the captives face, leering angrily down at him. _Haven't I seen him before? _

"W…who…ar…you?" Sam stuttered out sluggishly.

Gordon crouched down in front of Sam. "Oh come on kid, I didn't hit you that hard," he smirked, "yet."

Sam just stared. _Gordon? _He cringed as his memory flooded back. "G...G…Gordon?" he stammered out.

Gordon grinned. "Well, shit, Sam, guess you're Dad and brother cut this trip short. I'm not happy about it though."

The hunter's movement was quick as the butt of his rifle slammed into the side of Sammy's face.

Sam wilted against the tree trunk unconscious before he even saw the gun.

Gordon's hand came up and tugged at Sam's chin, taking in all the damage he had inflicted on the kid. It looked like enough. He reached rapidly around the tree stump and released the rope from around Sam's lax wrists and stuffed it into his back pack.

Sam fell limply to the ground beside the tree.

Gordon stood silently for a moment, taking in the extent of the disarray he'd made. This looked messy. He quickly removed his outer shirt and swiped it across the kid's face, his clothes, removing some of the mangled gore he had put there when he skinned the Wendigo at his feet. He had to admit, the kid looked pretty rough. He stuffed the nasty article quickly into his backpack.

He turned and looked at the Wendigo. _Humph, better clean this mess up too, they ain't too far away from the sound of that gunshot._ Swiftly he grabbed up pieces and parts of the Wendigo, throwing them abruptly in a pile, he doused it down with kerosene, the lit the creature ablaze.

Dank, smelly, smoke wafted up in the air with the flames. The hunter coughed loudly. _Man that damn thing stinks. _

Off to his right he heard voices; someone running quickly through the trees. _Shit._

The hunter shuffled hastily to Sam's side and skidded to his butt. He pulled the youngsters head up to rest against his lap. He dropped his gun down beside him, and gave Sam's shoulders a little shake.

Sam's eyes didn't' open, his body didn't move. His head simply lolled around limply on his neck.

_Good_, the crazy hunter thought, _now just stay that way. _

Gordon could hear muffled words behind him, and the sound of thudding feet. He sighed, rested his head against the tree trunk, and slowly closed his eyes.

**-0- **

In brief and sudden moment Dean's gun fired. The Wendigo fell immediately to the ground. Dead.

John looked wide eyed at his boy. He gulped in a shaky breath of air. "Good job, son." He offered with a smile.

Dean grinned, and reached his hand down to help his father to his feet.

"We'll burn it later, let's get to Sam." John whispered.

And they ran.

After several minutes, Dean could smell it, the distinct odor of burning flesh, burning Wendigo.

"You smell that?" John said loudly from just beside his running son.

"Yeah," Dean heaved out, "See the flames, see, up there, up ahead?" Dean pointed as he ran. The older brother's adrenaline kicked in. _Sammy?_

"Yeah, I see it." John strangled to say between gulping for some air.

Dean sprinted swiftly forward and away from his running Dad.

5


	11. Chapter 11

**Drifting**

**By: **supernaturaldh

**Beta:** You are in a beta free zone, all mistakes are my own.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, but man, I wished I did.

**Chapter 11 **

**The Lies that we Create **

Dean's body lurched hastily through the undergrowth, the twisted vines, and the brush. His eyes were fixated on the wavering orange flames and dense smoke that was weaving up and through the trees. He still couldn't see anything, but he could sense that Sam was near. His heart thudded loudly in his chest as he panted for oxygen. He really needed air. He kept running, didn't want to slow down. He could vaguely hear his father's gasps behind him, as he stumbled, then pushed himself back up, and ran.

Slowly the trees grew sparser and the darkness grew dense; the glow of the fire danced higher in the sky. He moved hastily forward, one thing on his mind. _Find Sammy; get to Sammy, take care of Sammy. _He lunged onward toward the flames. He faltered through the last of the underbrush, hand flailing at the tree limbs as they smacked him in the face. The red hot fire finally came into his view. He skidded abruptly to a halt– _Oh God!_ His little brother was slumped awkwardly against Gordon Walker, his eyes closed, his body limp and pale.

"Sweet Jesus," he heard his father mutter as he halted right beside him. 

It took a brief moment for both father and son to comprehend the image before them, and then, they bolted into action.

Dean dropped his sawed off to the ground as he skidded on the muddy grass to land harshly on his knees right next to Sam, his wide eyes gazing at his brother. _Oh God…this is bad. Okay, okay, stay calm, Sammy needs you. _Dean's trembling fingers pushed against Sam's neck. _Skin clammy… heart beating way to fast._

"He's alive," he whispered to his Dad. 

Minor relief flooded through John Winchester's system, and he pulled in a weary breath. His eyes quickly scanned his son for visible injuries.

"Sam…Sammy," Dean whispered as his hands hovered over his bleeding little brother, not sure what to touch, if anything, not wanting to hurt him any further.

"Wait," John ordered, his voice stern and in control. The older man's hand's ghosted over his son's bloody shirt, feeling for injuries.

Both men held their breath.

Dean waited while his father checked Sam over. He looked at Gordon Walker's slack face. _ Was he smiling?_ He wanted to move his baby brother away from this guy…away from this jerk…this man he didn't trust. He looked with pleading eyes at his father.

John hadn't been Dean's father twenty one years for nothing; he recognized and understood every face his son had – always had, always will – especially when it came to Sam. He gazed intently into Dean's eyes. "Sit here," he motioned next to Gordon.

Dean moved his body down quickly next to the unconscious hunter, feeling the man shudder in a breath. _Is he awake? _ He looked curiously at the lax face. He promptly dismissed the thought when he felt his father moving Sammy gently toward his side. His fingers gripped the nap of Sammy's neck, holding it steady, and tucking the matted, blood soaked hair up against his chest.

Sam whimpered.

"Sammy?" Dean murmured softly into the wayward hair.

John removed his jacket and tucked it around his son. "Sam?" His fingers held the flaccid face as it wobbled in his hand. Sam didn't respond.

John looked at Dean.

Dean wrapped his arms around his little brother. "S'okay Sammy, I gotcha," he cooed against his baby brother's cheek.

Gordon moaned, his sluggish eyelids fluttering slowly open. Suddenly he jerked awake, sat up abruptly, his fingers coiling on his gun.

"Easy, you're okay." John said brusquely as he yanked the shotgun from the groggy hunters grip. "What the hell happened?" The father spat out heatedly as he glared at Gordon's face.

Dean watched, in silence, fingers carding through Sam's hair. If his father's look could kill, then, this guy was dead already.

Gordon looked blankly back at John, then, dropped his gaze to Sam. _Good, the kids still out of it. _ He bit back the urge to smile.

"It came…came out of nowhere." Gordon stammered out as pushed to get up.

John gripped the wavering man by the arm, pulling him to a standing position.

Gordon's hand rested quickly on the tree trunk as his body wobbled on his feet, "Knocked me down, and flung your boy here into this tree."

John's eyebrows formed a hard and daring V as he glared intently at Gordon.

"It knocked me silly. Then, I heard Sam scream and I forced myself to move." The hunter pushed away from the tree. "I shot it," He smiled, "before it killed your boy." The sly black man turned and walked away, shoulders slumped, as he staggered purposely away.

John blew out an angry breath of air and drew a shaky hand back through his wayward hair. _Sweet Jesus._ He was overcome with grief. He'd brought his boy, the one with a head injury already, the one who was learning how to talk, that one, he'd brought him out here, left him to track a Wendigo. _What the hell was I thinking? _He shuffled away from Dean and Sam, following Gordon, a grimace rising to his face.

Gordon stopped, turning slightly to see if John had followed. _Man, I really need my gun_.

John muttered, "thank you," as he moved up next to his friend and stared down at the ground.

Gordon would've smiled, but he didn't think John would take lightly to his mirth. So he stood stoically gazing at the man. "So, maybe you shouldn't have brought the boy out here, huh?" _Lay the guilt on him heavy, keep him worrying about what he'd done, not what I did._ Gordon stepped forward, hand gripping the distraught father tightly by his arm. "So'd you get one?" He asked as he worked hard to keep his tone even and free of emotion. _ Don't' want him to think I'm happy 'bout all this. _He waited, as John absorbed his words.

The father head rose, moist eyes looking straight at Gordon. He sighed wearily. "Yeah…yeah, we got one, back over there." He wavered with his hand, guilt written all over his face. "Need to burn it."

Gordon nodded firmly, "I'll do it, buddy, and you take care of your boy."

John nodded silently and handed Gordon back his gun. He watched the black man shuffle noiselessly away, back through the woods, toward the dead Wendigo, the one that Dean had killed.

**-0- **

Sam whimpered again.

Dean shifted slightly, fingers cupping Sam's chin and tugging it lightly up. He watched as his little brother seemed to be struggling to open up his eyes.

"Sam, Sammy, come on little brother, wake up, talk to me."

Sam blinked open heavy eyelids and gazed unfocusedly at Dean.

"Alright, 'bout time you woke up kiddo."

Suddenly the seventeen year old jerked, then, pushed to get away. "No…" the kid stuttered out. "Let me go."

"Whoa, whoa…" Dean grabbed at the long gangly limbs that were pushing and shoving at him to get away. "Sammy, it's me, stop."

John's head darted from Gordon's disappearing form back to his boys. He shuffled immediately back to Sam's side, Gordon all but forgotten.

The father's agile fingers gripped Sammy tightly by the upper arms. "Hey, it's okay Sam…its okay, you're safe."

Sam flailed and fought against them.

"SAM, Hey, STOP it." John gave a direct order as his eyes gazed at his youngest bloody wrists. He frowned. _ What the hell?_

Sam's movements slowly ceased as his wide eyes, started blankly at his Dad and Dean.

"Definite concussion, maybe worse" John said tensely. He let his fingers ghost over Sam's face, and gently through is hair. He was rewarded for his efforts when Sam moaned and turned his head, his face nuzzling into Dean's shoulder.

Dean watched as his father removed his outer shirt, ripped and tore it into strips. He balled them up and pressed one to the still bleeding wound on the side of Sam's face, "hold that there." He guided Dean's hand into place. He lifted Sam's wobbly head gently, placing the other balled up material beneath his bloody head as it rested on his brother's shoulder.

_How'd he get two head wounds_? Dean looked perplexedly down at Sammy's face. "He hit something twice?" Dean asked as he looked curiously at his Dad.

Sam blinked lethargically, scared wide eyes wondering wildly around as if he was looking for something or someone. He mewed in a low and barely audible whisper, "No, pl...please, just… let me go."

Dean tugged his brother closer to his chest. "It's okay Sam, it's me, Dean, I gotcha."

Sam's head rose weakly up. He looked sluggishly at his brother, "D…D…ean?"

"Yeah, buddy, it's me. I gotcha."

Sam relaxed against Dean's hold.

John frowned and he chewed his lower lip. Slowly a picture unfolded in his head. He grunted, suddenly, and found it hard to breathe. He pushed hurriedly to stand, fingers grabbing for his gun.

"What?" Dean asked in confusion as his father's face flashed in heated anger.

"I'm gonna kill that son of bitch," John hissed.

5


	12. Chapter 12

**Drifting**

**By: **supernaturaldh

**Beta:** You are in a beta free zone, all mistakes are my own.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, too dang bad.

**Chapter 12 **

**Won't Be Doing it Again…**

Dean looked keenly at his Dad. _Man, he's really pissed._ He glanced down to see Sam's eyes were closed, his unconscious little brother nuzzled in his side.

"What? Dad? What?" The older brother whispered anxiously.

John's eyes darted around the area; peering angrily in the last direction he had seen one Gordon Walker. "Look at his wrists." The father crouched back down, body heaving in angry puffs of air. He gently grabbed Sam's hand and curled it over, allowing the shirt sleeve to move slightly up.

"What's that?" Dean's mouth dropped open, concern pulsing steady through his veins. "Rope burns?" He looked wide eyed at his Dad.

John scowled, heated glare looking at the dark, bruised, and bleeding, whelps that adorned his youngest wrist.

Slow realization dawned on Dean. "That son of a bitch," his words a mere echo of his Dad's. "He did not use my little brother as bait."

John tucked the flaccid limb back beneath the jacket that was draped across Sam's limp body and lightly patted it down. "He won't be doing it again!" The irate father hissed.

Sam moaned, and both hunters attention was drawn immediately back to their precious burden resting pressed against Dean's chest.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered urgently. His hand ran tenderly along his little brother's cheekbone. "Sammy? Open your eyes," he pleaded.

Sam head felt foggy and he couldn't think straight, there was a steady throbbing in his skull. He shifted slightly, nuzzling into the pillow. It was soft, and he was so tired. He heard a voice, but he was too damn exhausted to respond – sides his eyes seemed to be glued shut.

"Open your eyes Sam."

He felt gentle fingers patting lightly on his cheek. He tugged his face away. His eyes still glued together.

"We got to wake him up, son."

_Dad? _ Sam recognized his father's stern military tone of voice as it danced around his ears. He knew that John was near. He felt certain now; he was leaning on his big brother. He recognized the scents that were Dean, and Dean alone - gun oil, old spice, and leather. He'd smelled it his whole life, took it for what it was, safety, love, and home. He burrowed in against his brother's side. He wanted to stay here, listening to their quite mumblings.

"Damn it Sam, open your freaking eyes."

Dean wanted to shake the living daylights out of Sam, wake his little brother up.

_Hump, Dean sounds kind of pissed._ Sam smiled vaguely at his older brother's words.

Dean grinned as he saw his semi-conscious brother's lips curl up on the edges. _That's it bro, come on back to us._ He watched silently as dark brown eyelashes fluttered slowly, brushing lightly on pale cheeks.

"That's it, wake up Sammy."

Dean's words nudged at him, until Sam finally gave in and forced his heavy eyelids open. He blinked one time, two…

Both men were rewarded when unfocused hazel eyes finally looked lazily at them both.

"Hey son," John said, his own burly hand moving to rest lightly on his boy's mussed up matted hair. _Kid'll never let me do this on a normal day._ "How you doing?"

"It's about freaking time." Dean said almost giddily as his arms wrapped and patted at the jacket nestled firmly around Sam.

Sam sighed minutely, shuddered visibly, and looked with unclear hazels orbs directly at them both. "Mmmmm," he mumbled, his eyes wondering as he blinked, eyelids slowly falling closed.

Dean's hand patted him against the side of his face, "No you don't kiddo, you got to stay awake." He looked at Sam's face as his eyes silted back open.

Sam stared blankly at him for a moment. "I…I'm….t...t...tired," he murmured out thickly, "…urts…"

"I know, buddy." John said softly, fingers ghosting through Sam's hair. "But, you got to promise me."

Sam's eyes drifted, groggily looking around the dark.

"Sam, look at me," John said sternly. "Promise me, that you'll stay awake."

Sam dilated pupils looked with confusion at his Dad. He felt his father's fingers tugging through his hair. He blinked slowly. "K…" a light whisper eased across his lips.

John stood up, "Keep him awake Dean, I'll be back."

"What? Where are you going?"

John snorted; rage now pumping through his veins.

Dean's brows furrowed in a frown.

"I'm gon'a kill'em." The father turned abruptly, and stomped toward the tree line, following the same path that Gordon Walker walked before.

"Dad, wait," Dean voiced quivered with words he hated to have to say. "We need him."

John stopped his forward motion. _Damn it all to hell. _He turned to face his boys.

"Gordon can get us back quicker," Dean sighed, "He knows this area a hundred percent better than you and I."

John raked his hand through his hair, bloodshot eyes gazing at his son. He knew Dean was right. He wasn't even sure where they were, how to get back down this damn mountainside. Sam was concussed, would need to get to the hospital as soon as possible. There was no cell phone reception. The cards were stacked against them. This was bad.

The father stood silently, staring at the dimming Wendigo fire. _Gordon was still out there - thinking they were none the wiser, thinking they'd bought his load of crap. _His face furrowed up in thought. "Okay, okay," he sighed, "you're right son, just let me think a minute."

**-0-**

It didn't take Gordon Walker long to skin the dead Wendigo, stuffing another pristine hide inside his pack. _I am going to make some good money from this little hunt, yes sir, good money indeed._ He doused the hairy mass of blood, guts, and fur in kerosene. He grinned wickedly. His plan had almost gone off without a hitch, just needed to get the last Wendigo. He swiped the match against the book cover; it sizzled as he dropped it to the ground. He watched as the heap of dead animal went quickly up in flames. He scrunched his nose up at the smell.

"Gordon," John's voice permeated from behind him.

The black hunter tensed up. _Damn it…_ He hastily turned his head, his eyes squinting to see through the predawn morning light. His grip tightened on his shotgun as he stared curiously at John. _Better keep you're damn distance Winchester. _

"Thanks for burning this one." John motioned toward the dead creature as he moved quickly to stand up next to Gordon.

Gordon relaxed. _He's not on to me, that's good._

"Sure thing." Gordon nodded at John. _Such a stupid son of a… _

"Listen, Sam's not doing so well, he doesn't remember a thing." John purposely gave a worried frown. "We got to get him down off this mountain."

"Just glad I could help."

"I really appreciate what you did, saving Sam and all." The father continued, the dim light camouflaging the small smirk that tugged up to his lips.

"Not at all John, that's what friends are for." _Dumb-ass._

John bit his lip, to keep his anger and the humor of Gordon's words at bay. _This son of a bitch is so going down. _ He shuffled up next to Gordon and brought his hand up to rest on the black man's shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze. He wanted to kill this man so badly right now. He was ready to do it, could do it, but he had to think about Sam, get him down off this damn mountain. _ Yep, got to keep my anger in check, got to play the game. _He smiled warmly at Gordon.

Gordon smiled smugly back. _What an idiot this guy is, bought the whole story hook, line, and sinker. Now, if I can eliminate the kid – my only witness. _

John steered the hunter back through the trees, moving them both quickly toward his boys. All he needed was to get Sam and Dean to safety, and then, well, he'd give Gordon just what he deserved.

4


	13. Chapter 13

**Drifting**

**By: **supernaturaldh

**Beta:** You are in a beta free zone, all mistakes are my own.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, too dang bad.

**A/N:** Sorry, I have been on vacation this past week and could not get to the internet. I had a great time though. Now back to our story.

**Chapter 13 **

**Caution to the Wind**

"Dean?"

Sam's voice was weak causing Dean to strain his ears to hear his little brother's whispered words. The older brother's head leaned forward, green eyes gazing intently at the kid.

"H...h...ead…'urts," he whimpered his lips barely moving.

"Sh..." Dean cooed.

The younger brother's head wobbled weakly on his neck. Dean's fingers rested gently on the side of the pale face holding it steadily against his chest. _ This is such a freaking mess, he knew Sam didn't need to be thrust back into this hunt, the kid wasn't ready, still needed to recover from the car wreck and the head injury that he had gotten as a result. Damn John Winchester for throwing caution to the wind..._

Sam moaned.

The older brother sighed and tucked him tighter up against him. He could feel light shudders run through lax and pliant limbs. He knew one thing for sure, when they got down off this damn mountain; Sammy was going to rest and recover for as long as it would take.

A rustling in the tree line caught his attention and he squinted in the predawn morning light. He moved his hand to grasp roughly at his shotgun, Sam still cradled to his side. He held his breath and waited. _Could be another Wendigo coming in to make the kill_.

"Dean," John's gruff voice wafted in the breeze, the large man coming into view.

The twenty one year old relaxed as a low sigh eased across his lips. His fingers released their hold on the trigger of his sawed off and lowered it gradually to the ground. He wrapped both arms around his brother, tucking his head beneath his chin.

"We're over here," he stated.

In a moment his father was at his side bending down to check on Sam. "How's he doing?" He stowed his sawed off in the back of his blue jeans; his callous fingers pressing lightly against Sam's neck, checking his pulse.

"Still drifting in and out of consciousness," Dean stated matter of fact. "We got to get him out of here Dad." He whispered urgently.

"Kid looks rough." Gordon's cocky voice muttered from behind John as the other hunter came into Dean's line of sight.

Dean felt his brother's body tense with Gordon's words. _ That son of a bitch hurt Sammy, of that much I am sure._ "Easy Sam, it's okay," he whispered against the matted, wayward head of hair.

"Can he walk?" the black hunter asked curiously.

Dean bit his tongue.

John's brow furrowed as he looked from Sam to Gordon.

"I got him," the father stated firmly, "you just lead the way."

John reached down and with very little effort tugged his youngest from his older brother's grasp.

Dean reluctantly released his hold on Sam.

"Get your gun, Dean." John hissed, his eyes glistening angrily in the predawn morning light. His face was a mass of unsaid words, telling Dean all he needed to know - be ready for anything.

Dean's head nodded silently at his father. He grasped his fingers on his shotgun and pushed quickly to his feet.

John stood, cradling his precious burden.

"D…Dad?" Sam mumbled, hazel eyes blinking listlessly up at John. He floundered slightly against his father's hold.

Memories of a small tow headed boy with wide eyes flashed across his mind. A brief smile ghosted past his lips "Easy," John shushed. He adjusted his grip on his boy.

Dean picked the jacket that had fallen to the ground and tucked it in tightly around Sam.

"I'm right here Sam." He said softly to his brother.

Sam looked foggily up at him.

He lightly pushed the bangs away from Sam's face. "Its okay, Sam, I'm right here."

John felt Sam relax. "Let's go," he stated with a grunt.

**-0-**

The trek down the mountainside was slow, a misty fog rising up around them and hanging in the air. It was hard to see in icy morning haze. They stumbled and faltered along as Gordon led them manically forward down the hill.

Sam was practically dead weight in his father's arms. The seventeen year old drifted in and out of consciousness, mumbling and twisting, in his father's strong embrace.

John's tone was gentle as he whispered comfort to his son. "Its okay, I gotcha." His boots ate up the mountainside - he wasn't sure he was more pissed off with, himself or Gordon Walker. _Kid should've been resting, getting well, not out here on this godforsaken mountain hunting. What the hell was I thinking?_

Dean could here John's gentle murmuring of reassurances to Sam. He could feel the guilt and anger as it radiated off his father. While he was still angry with his Dad, he realized John was truly sorry, and was now a man on a mission, a mission to save his brother's life.

John tripped on a tree branch his body suddenly lurching forward.

Dean quickly gripped him by the arm, steadying him. "You okay?" he questioned.

John staggered to a stop. He looked with intense brown-green eyes at his son. He heaved visibly for oxygen. _Okay, not as young as I used to be."_

"Hey," Dean yelled at Gordon as he pulled his shot gun up. "Wait up." He motioned with the barrel of his gun.

Gordon stopped abruptly, his boots scuffling on the twigs and rocks as he came to a sudden stop. He looked blankly at Dean and sighed. _Can't make a run for it, kid might just shoot me in the back, play along._ He glanced at Sam, it was obvious, he'd hit the boy way too hard and possibly one too many times. He grinned. Kid was of no threat to him now, hell; he couldn't even hold his own head up. _Get off this mountain; Get away, get away, get away!_ The words were a mantra in his head.

The black hunter tempered his emotions. "We can rest here, John," he said with blatant false concern.

John nodded silently.

Dean stowed his gun and wrapped his arms around Sam as his father eased him to the ground.

Sweat glistened on the John's face as he stood partially back up, large hands resting on his knees. He gulped in the cold morning air as he glared heatedly at Gordon. "How much further?"

"Not much." Gordon smiled, "Almost there."

John glared at the hunter. 

Dean sat quietly holding on to his unconscious sibling. His fingers carded through the too long, scraggly, hair.

Sam's chest heaved, and he mumbled and tossed his head. His eyes silted open, staring sluggishly at Dean.

"It's okay Sammy. I got'cha." Dean looked at Sam. His brother's skin was hot; way too hot. His cheeks were cherry flushes of pink against his pale discolored skin. _Never a good sign, fever with a head injury. _

Sam wasn't sure where he was, or why. He knew he was hot though, it felt like his skin was on fire. He was drowning and he couldn't seem catch his breath. He forced open his eyes, the bright white light making his head pound. He quickly shut his eyes. He was leaning on something, he felt it. It felt familiar. A soft voice above him offered home and comfort, and he took it. He relaxed and let himself drift.

"It's okay Sammy. I got'cha." Dean's voice whispered on the breeze.

And Sam let the darkness pull him down.

.

5


	14. Chapter 14

**Drifting**

**By: **supernaturaldh

**Beta:** You are in a beta free zone, all mistakes are my own.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, but boy I wished I did.

**Chapter 14 **

John pushed to his full stature glancing down at his boys.

"He's burn' in up," Dean stated matter of fact as his concerned green eyes gazed intently at his Dad.

"Gordon, let's move." John said demandingly.

Gordon blew out a weary sigh._ I'm getting tired of this shit, John Winchester ordering my ass around._

The father once again reached down and retrieved his precious burden. He strained to stand. He could physically feel the heat burning off his son's head as it lolled against his chest. "Sweet Jesus," He huffed out as he came up beside Gordon, "how much further is it?"

Dean grabbed up his shotgun and moved hastily up beside his Dad.

"Not too far." Gordon nodded and moved forward through the trees and up the next hill.

They shuffled silently for a while, bushes and branches scratching and clawing at their clothes. Dean eased in front of his father, attempting to stop the branches from flailing at his unconscious little brother.

Gordon stopped unexpectedly, Dean ramming roughly against the black man's back.

"What the hell, Gordon?" the young hunter mumbled as he fought to stay upright and, at the same time, keep his Dad from barreling into him with Sam. "Stop Dad."

"Shut up." Gordon hissed, his head tilting, ears straining in the wind.

Dean glared heatedly at the hunter.

John Winchester stopped stock still, Sammy lolling in his arms.

The motley crew stood silently as the wind whistled through the trees.

John and Dean both held their breath, their eyes glancing roughly at each other, and then back around the empty woods. Their ears were met with the echo of breaking tree limbs, and rustling branches in the brush.

"Behind you," Gordon suddenly shouted as he raised his gun to shoot.

A bullet zoomed right past John's head, so close that he could feel its heat.

"God damn it," the father yelled. He fell quickly to the ground, rolling and tumbling with Sam still in his arms. _Son of a bitch is going to get us all killed. _He felt his body thumping against rocks and underbrush and his arms tightened around his boy as they plummeted in a mass of arms and legs right back down the hill.

Dean saw his father fall, and then he caught a glimpse of the large creature as it barreled down against him. He raised his gun to shoot.

The next moment was a blur of motion, the sound of gunshots, and then, nothing, but silence in the woods.

**-0- **

Dark eyes gazed blankly upward at the swirling clouds above him. _What's goin' on? _The man pushed to set up on wobbly arms that didn't quite want to hold his heavy weight. He swayed and brought his fingers up to brush against his blood soaked shoulder, prodding and probing at the gash that was bleeding through his shirt. _Son of a bitch. _He tugged out a handkerchief and pressed it up against the bleeding wound. He gazed blankly at his surroundings. He blinked slowly, attempting to clear his addled thoughts, and then, a small maniacal grin curled up to his lips.

**-0-**

In the distance John recognized the sounds of his youngest in the troughs of nightmare. _Just give it a second 'cause Dean'll take care of it- he always does. _The father was just too tired and didn't want to open up his eyes. He scrunched up his nose. _What the hell is that smell?_

He heard his youngest whimpering. _Come on Dean, wake up your brother. _He nuzzled his face in against the pillow. _Damn this pillow is hard? _He struggled to pull open his heavy eyelids. _ Man, I must have tied one on last night. _He blinked blankly as he looked at the tree trunk now staring him in the face. _What the hell?_

He flopped harshly over to his back, pain soaring through his head. He heaved in a gulp of the chilly air and struggled with the throbbing as it pounded in his skull. He lay perfectly still for a moment, his eyes staring perplexedly at the sky. The light was bright, and it made his eyes water; he quickly scrunched them shut. _Damn, what time's it, and where the hell am I?_

He opened up his eyes again and the world tilted in a slow and lazy spin around him. His vision grayed out and he heaved a shaky breath.He blinked, and slowly pulled himself up against the tree stump. After a moment, he pushed to stand up, his fingers gripping at the bark. He wavered, but held firmly to the tree. He glanced around, immediately, his breath caught in his chest. _Oh my god._ There, a mere five feet away, was Sam, lying face down in the mud.

He stumbled forward, dropping abruptly to his knees.

"Sammy?" he said as he gently turned his baby over.

Sam's arms flopped with the motion and he moaned.

"Easy," John grimaced, the kids left arm was badly broken the bone pushing up and through his sleeve. The father swallowed convulsively. _Don't get sick, no time for that now. _

Sam whimpered.

"Easy son, I gotcha." John's dirty fingers cupped against his youngest feverish cheek. 

"D...D...en," Sam murmured, his face nuzzling into John's hand. His fever glazed hazels blinked slowly open and looked blankly at his Dad.

"No son, it's Daddy."

John's head swiveled on his neck; eyes sprinting around the area as his memory came slamming back. _Oh God, where is Dean?_

"DEAN?" he yelled loudly.

No response.

"Dean?" He yelled again. His fear retched up a notch. _Okay, okay, focus here, take care of Sam first, and then, go look for Dean. _

The father stood on unsteady legs and looked around the tree, scouring the ground for branches to set his youngest broken arm. Two branches, not too big, but long enough for Sam's gangly limb. The kid had grown up a lot in the last few years, and he was all legs and arms now.

He staggered before bending down and picking up the tree limbs. He stumbled slowly back and dropped down beside his son. _Set the break, and look for Dean, set the break, and look for Dean. _A mantra played over and over inside his head.

He gazed at his young son's flushed face.

"I'm sorry Sammy," the father whispered. _I hate to hurt my boy._

Sam screamed as John sat the broken bone, then his eyelids fluttered shut.

John leaned back on his haunches and gave a weary sigh. He swiped his sleeve against his own water dampened lids. _I hate hurting my boy._ He slowly tucked the jacket back around Sam's unconscious body and pulled his fingers through the kids sweat dampened hair. Then, in a very un-John like gesture, he pressed his lips lightly against his young son's feverish forehead. _Can't do this when he's awake. _

"Daddy will be right back baby," he whispered. His hands patted lightly across the jacket as he tucked his little boy in. _ I got to find your brother._

If John was a praying man, and he wasn't, but if he was, he'd ask God to watch out for his baby. Help him take care of his little boy. He chewed is lower lip for a moment, then, whispered out the words. "Please, God."

He pushed to stand up on shaky legs. He sucked in a large gulp of air, gave Sammy one last look, and then, slowly stumbled up the hillside, yelling as he went.

"DEAN?"

4


	15. Chapter 15

**Drifting**

**By: **supernaturaldh

**Beta:** You are in a beta free zone, all mistakes are my own.

**Disclaimer:** Note mine, never will be.

**Chapter 15 **

For some reason the top of the hill seemed further away than John Winchester remembered. The climb back up was tedious, of course that was probably due to the concussion he was now completely sure he had. Between his hazy vision, his pounding head, and his fumbling feet, he wasn't really sure he'd even make it to the damn top. He was reluctant to leave his youngest unconscious by the tree. Every few minutes; he turned and looked back down the incline, just to make sure Sam was still there. Silly he new, of course he was, the kid was out of it, but still he didn't like leaving him alone.

The father crinkled up his nose the further up the hill he climbed. He recognized the rank and nasty smell of burning Wendigo. He'd smelt it many times before, and twice on this very hunt. It was clear to him; someone had taken out the Wendigo and was burning its remains. He lightly fingered his sawed off, which miraculously had managed to stay in the back of his blue jeans during his mad tumble down the hill with Sam. In his mind, he knew it was time to eliminate Gordon Walker, fellow hunter or not; the man was a psycho and he was putting his boy's at risk.

He stopped, physically leaning against a tree trunk and gulping down some air. He glanced down at his boy. Sam was still where he'd left him, unconscious and alone. He heaved out a weary breath and moved forward up the hill. Dark black smoke bellowed from above him as he crested the top of the hill. The smell of burning flesh overwhelmed him and he moved his hand up to cover his nose and mouth his body gagging from the fumes. Finally, the bright orange-red flames came into view. Yep, just as he had thought, the Wendigo was smoldering in the fire. His eyes quickly darted around as he pulled his shotgun from its hiding spot. _Where is that son of a bitch?_

He didn't see Gordon Walker - anywhere. What he did see caused his heart to skip a beat.

"Sweet Jesus," he mumbled as he ran and stumbled toward his oldest son.

Dean was lying on his side against the cold and muddy ground – he wasn't moving.

"Please God," John mumbled as he stowed his gun away.

He skidded to a halt and dropped down upon his knees. The movement caused his vision to blur and he closed his eyes for a second to counteract the vertigo. A shaky hand reached down and gripped Dean by the upper arm.

"Dean?" He gently prodded, his fingers tapping on Dean's cheek.

He was rewarded when emerald green eyes blinked slowly open and stared back up at him.

"Thank god," The father voiced shakily.

"Dad?"

John gripped Dean by the arm and attempted to help his son set up.

Dean moaned and winced with the motion pain lines etching to his eyes.

John immediately stopped and looked down at Dean's shirt, on his right side, it was bloody. "You're bleeding, let me see."

Dean relaxed back against the ground while John's nimble fingers prodded at his side.

John lifted up Dean's white tee-shirt. Anger rushed at the father and gripped him tightly by the core. He hissed out heatedly, "That son of a bitch shot you."

Dean snorted, "And you're surprised."

John rolled his eyes. He knew Dean was right, he should have never trusted Gordon Walker, what the hell was he thinking - obviously, he wasn't. The father tore a strip of material off of his own dirty shirt and made hasty work of cleaning off the wound as best he could.

Dean grimaced with the ministrations, but didn't move. "Sweet Jesus that damn thing stinks," he whispered through his tightly gritted teeth.

John laughed, Dean was still coherent and in the mood to make smart ass remarks – kid would be okay.

"It's just a flesh wound, might need some stitches though." John said with a grin.

Dean nodded silently, visibly sucking up the pain - don't give into it – must stay in control. He bit his lower lip as John tied off the binding and then helped him to set up. He blew out a shaky breath. "Where's Sam?"

John moved to pull his young son up, both men visibly leaning on each other for support. He wasn't sure at that moment if he was holding Dean up, or Dean was holding him up. The trees were whirling past his head. He swallowed convulsively.

"Dad?" Dean gripped his father's arm tighter as he felt him sway. "You okay?" he asked curiously.

"Think…" John swallowed again, "I got a concussion."

"Well, shit." Dean held on tightly as his father slowly regained his vision and the urge to throw up went away.

"Sam's down at the bottom the hill, broke his arm when we fell."

"What," Dean's eyes grew wider with concern, "and you left him down there… alone?" Dean asked tersely. He released his vice grip on his father's arm and moved hastily forward through the woods.

"Had to find you," John voiced weakly as he stumbled behind Dean.

Just over the crest of the hill, John pointed, his body relaxing from relief. "See, he's right down there." _Thank god, he's still there._

Dean's stopped and looked down the incline. He sighed loudly; at least Sammy was in his line of sight. But, the way his brother looked, well, it made his stomach hurt and not just from the gunshot wound. He bounded down the hill, totally disregarding his own injury and pain – he had to get to Sam.

"Dean," John yelled behind him, "take it easy, you're hurt too."

Dean paid little heed to his father's concerned words.

He skidded to a halt and crouched down beside his brother.

Sam was a mess; dirt covering his face, sweat beaded on his feverish brow, hair a matted disarray. His lower arm was splinted and lying splayed out beside him on the ground. But it was his stillness that concerned Dean the most.

"Sammy?" He lightly touched his little brother's face.

Sam mumbled something that sounded a lot like Dean and leaned into his hand.

"Open your eyes kiddo." Dean said gently.

John moved in beside Dean, eyes falling on his boy.

Feverish hazel eyes opened and gazed up at them both. "De..D..Dean?"

"Yep," his older brother said as he gripped Sam by the hand.

"D..D..Dad?"

"Right here son." John cascaded his hand through Sam's long bangs and pushed them off his face.

"D..d..did w..we fall down?"

Dean smiled, at least Sam was awake.

"Yes son," John grinned at his boy, "We fell down."

John sat back on his haunches a perplexed look rising to his face. "Okay, okay, let me think." He dragged his fingers through his hair. "We need to get Sam out of here, you're hurt too. I can go for help."

"Dad," Dean rolled his eyes, "I'm fine, it's you that's got a concussion. I'll go."

"Oh yeah, your fine, bleeding all over the place, but hey, you're fine." John said sarcastically.

Dean huffed, "I'm fine."

"Are not."

"Are too."

"Are not."

"I'll go." Sam whispered at them both.

Both Winchester's stared blankly down at Sam.

The kid giggled and bright smiles broke out on their faces.

4


	16. Chapter 16

**Drifting**

**By: **supernaturaldh

**Beta:** You are in a beta free zone, all mistakes are my own.

**Disclaimer:** Note mine, never will be.

**Chapter 16 **

**He Would Make this Right **

The sun was rising brightly just above the tree line; the black smoke from the smoldering Wendigo fire no longer wafting in the air.

"I'm going for help."

Dean nodded silently at his Dad.

Sam's flushed face looked blankly up at them both. "I...I...hitmyhd." He said out of the blue.

The father frowned and patted at the jacket that he'd draped against his sons.

Dean grinned and tugged his brother in closer to his chest. "Yea kiddo you did."

"Wh'r my fl...F...flash...cards?"

"We got'em Sammy" Dean whispered.

John's brow furrowed as he realized what he was doing – tucking his practically grown boys in? He released his grip on the jacket.

"Just keep pressure on that wound, Dean," the father stated sternly.

Dean flashed a smile, subterfuge always worked for his father. His free hand pressed lightly against the bandage on his side and he grimaced with its weight.

"Sammy," John carded his fingers through his youngest wayward hair. _Kid's got a fever. _His heart clinched tighter in his chest. There was no time to waste, he had to get Sam some help…and he had to get it now! "Once we get you out of here buddy, we are working on getting you all better, I promise, and guess what?" the father stated, "I will do your flash cards with you," a long pause, "everyday –okay?"

Dean's eyes widened – been here done this. He bit his lip.

"Evwydy?" Sam slurred, weak eyes roaming aimlessly around.

"Son, look at me." The father ordered as he tilted Sam's chin upward with his hand, "You got to stay awake, kiddo." He cupped the feverish cheek and looked intently at Sam's dilated eyes.

Sam looked sluggishly back at him.

Dean's arms tightened around his baby brother's lax limbs. "I got him, Dad…you go." He looked down at his little brother. "We won't be napping, will we Sammy?"

"N...no nap." Sam sounded all of five years old, his head bobbling loosely on his neck as he grinned weakly at them both.

Dean and John both gave a worried smile.

John pressed his shotgun against Dean's leg, his eldest nodding silently at the motion.

The father stood on shaky legs, headache throbbing into full force from the slight concussion that he was sure he had now.

"You'll be okay?" He glanced from Sam to Dean.

"We'll be fine." Dean said.

With those words John turned and clamored his way slowly back up the hillside sweat immediately beading to his brow. He hated to leave his boys, especially when they were hurt, but somebody had to go for help.

He smiled as he recalled how Dean had fought him on it_. "I can go Dad, you stay here with Sam."_ Although he may have wanted to stay with his youngest, John knew better; that decision had been made a long, long time ago. He smiled to himself. Dean would take care of his baby brother.

The weary father sucked in a ragged breath of air and glanced one last time down the hillside at his son's. He was a lucky man; he knew it, he just never took the time to show it like he should. He sucked at being a parent. It was Mary, she'd been the good parent, and he'd just gone along for the ride. He sighed loudly, if his wife was still alive, things would be different - they'd be a real family.

He tugged his hand roughly through his way too dirty hair. He swiped at the teardrops welling in his eyes. _Stop it, must be the concussion_. Reluctantly, he crested the top of the hill and moved silently away from his boys. With every step, he grew angrier. It draped him like a cloak, kept him warm and pushed him forward. _No one hurt his boys, ever! _ It pulsated through his veins, and throbbed relentlessly inside his aching head. _Gordon Walker is a dead man! _

He stumbled and rested for a moment against a tree trunk. He glanced around the woods; figured he was about two miles from the Impala. _Two miles, I can make it._ He pushed onward, attempting to walk faster, faltering awkwardly over rocks and more tree limbs. Determination decorated his features as he yanked out his cell phone one more time. _No bars – damn it_. He slammed it shut and stuffed it roughly back inside his pants pocket. _Cell phones are freaking worthless! _He exhaled noisily and wobbled from one tree to the next. He smiled. _His boys would be laughing at him right now walking around like a drunkard in the woods_.

Although, he really wanted to set down, to rest and collect his weary thoughts, he couldn't, not now, not with so much at stake. _Sam_. Tears welled up in his eyes again and he hastily blinked them back. He'd been wrong the whole time. But, he had been afraid – so afraid, what if Sam would never be the same? He just couldn't deal with that, not ever.

The father stumbled but kept going.

He was angry, angry with Gordon, but angrier with himself. He hadn't listened to the doctors, hadn't listened to Dean. No, he had drug his youngest out on this hunt - and the kid wasn't ready. He had put his son in jeopardy, and that was not acceptable, not acceptable at all. He chewed his lower lip, but kept moving, his thoughts rushing quickly through his head. _Why did it take life and death to make me see how important Sam is to me? _He grimaced. _Sam would always be his boy, it didn't matter if he talked right or not. He was his son, and that was never going to change._ His vision wavered and he sucked down some heavy gulps of air.

He had to fix this.

The tired father shored up his shoulders and moved steadily forward and through the brush. He would save his boys, he would be there for Sam, and he **would** make this right.

**-0- **

Dean could feel the heat coming off of his little brother in waves. _Sam's bad, he needs help – please Dad hurry. _

"D...Dn?" Sam whispered lethargically.

"Yea, kiddo." The older brother's breath ghosted in Sam's hair and blew it against his flushed cheek. The kid quivered lightly.

Dean tilted his head, eyes looking down at Sam. He pulled his little brother closer in against him. _He wasn't an older brother for nothing. _Sam was crying. "You're okay Sammy." He reassured as his fingers tugged up on the jacket.

"N...No I'mnot," Sam slurred. "I I...I...w...want to…talk...talk b...better..." Sam hiccupped out.

Dean felt moisture rolling down his fingers as they pressed against Sam's chin. _Oh Sammy. _His eyes blinked quickly, pushing back his wayward tears. _Damn Gordon Walker, damn John Winchester… ___

Teardrops splashed against Dean's hand.

"Shhhhh, Sammy, you'll talk better, I promise…shhhh…I promise." Dean cooed. "It's all going to be okay, you'll see." _Head injuries, man they really suck._

Sam grew very still in his brother's arms.

"Sammy?" Dean glanced down at his brother's flushed and feverish face. _Don't let him fall asleep._

Sam's eyelids were shut.

He gave Sam a visible shake. "Sammy?" _Don't do this bro!_

Green eyes barely silted open and Sam looked lethargically at Dean.

"No nap." He whispered.

And Dean smiled.

4


	17. Chapter 17

**Drifting**

**By: **supernaturaldh

**Beta:** You are in a beta free zone, all mistakes are my own.

**A/N:** Don't know if I'll ever get these guys off this mountain. I know, I'm long winded, what can I say!

**Disclaimer:** Note mine, never will be.

**Chapter 17 **

John pushed the tree limbs awkwardly out of his face, the pointy branches flailing back and scratching wildly at his skin. He staggered forward. _Surely to god the car is coming into view soon_. He stumbled but kept on going. He wasn't about to stop, not now, not ever, not when his boys were both at stake.

He advanced slowly, sluggish eyes glancing all around. _Doesn't look familiar? _Slowly, a small smile curled up to his lips_. Yes! _There, setting like a beacon shining in the sunlight - his baby - the sleek black car that his boys always called their home. _Thank god! _He staggered forward on his wobbly legs intent on getting to his car and getting his boys some help.

The Impala never looked as good as it did today.

The father grinned as he leaned on the side of the vehicle his body heaving in the oxygen. He pulled his cell phone from his pants pocket in his visibly shaking hand. _Still no bars_…_damn it!_ He sighed loudly – it was a worthless piece-o-crap. He'd toss the damn thing but, you never know when you might need a phone with no signal. He snorted at his own little joke, he was obviously still concussed. He stuffed the object back inside his pants pocket and fumbled around his person for the keys. _Get in the car, drive down the road, get some help, get some help, get some help._ The words played over and over like a mantra inside his aching head.

_Where are the car keys?_ He frowned. He patted gingerly on his person and groped further at his clothes. His fingers grew more frantic as the moments passed and no car keys appeared. He felt his stomach drop. Reality was a bitch. _No, no, no, no no… it couldn't be…no,no,no… what was I thinking? The car keys are in my jacket, my jacket that is draped across my boys_. He wanted to kick something, kick himself. He belittled himself even further as he sagged against the side of the car. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. _

Suddenly he felt very, very tired; he waivered on his feet, his long legs sliding from beneath him as his butt banged harshly to the ground. He leaned his head back heavily against his baby, his vision graying out for a moment. He sucked in air and swallowed. His concussed head ached like a mother and he struggled just to get a clear thought. He dropped his throbbing forehead into his hands as he chewed against his lower lip. _Help the boys, help the boys_, _think, think, think, think._

And his unbridled teardrops fell adamantly against the barren ground.

**-0- **

First and foremost, Dean Winchester was a big brother, a roll that had been thrust on him at the tiny age of four.

He still remembered the day like it was yesterday, running from the fire, little Sammy bundled in his arms. His father had given him a job to do that night, told him to take care of his baby brother, and that's exactly what he'd done. What he was still doing today. And god knows it was a role that he cherished more than life itself, and a role that without question he'd continue until the day he died.

Sam whimpered.

Dean brows furrowed in concern. He gazed at his seventeen year old brother's pale white face. The kid was a mess. Sam had been through too much lately, the car wreck, his head injury, and then Dad dragging him on this stupid hunt. He really needed some time to recover, get his strength back, his life back.

Sam shivered.

Dean tugged him tighter up against his side_. I'll make sure you get that time little brother, regardless what our father says. _

Sam's eyes slited open and stared blankly up at Dean. "Wh'rs Daddy?" the words ghosted past his lips.

"It's okay Sammy. Shh…" Dean whispered "Daddy's coming back for us."

Sam sighed like he had the weight of the world resting on his shoulders.

The older brother nuzzled his chin against his younger brother's hair hoping the kid was getting some kind of heat from him. His fingers rubbed against Sam's arms. It wasn't much, but all his own injured body had to give.

Thoughts of his father floated in his head.

Dad was an idiot a lot of the time. A man on a mission, regardless of what damage it left in his wake. Yep, his father was an enigma, a riddle that Sam had yet to understand.

Dean knew John Winchester was a hunter for a reason, his wife stolen from him in the middle of the night a long long time ago.

Dean was lucky, he remembered his father from before. Sammy didn't.

He smiled. He remembered John when all he was just a Dad - when he played ball with him in the backyard, when he danced in the living room with his mom. He remembered it all. He heaved in a silent breath of air. He remembered it all, the fire, and his father falling apart, the shell of the man his father had become.

He hugged Sammy tighter. He remembered it all just like it happened yesterday. Unfortunately Sam did not. The kid had no memories of that time, of the real John Winchester.

Dean chewed his lower lip, he'd wished a thousand times that Sam and his father got along, that they'd come to see things eye to eye. He worried about it, worried that one day they'd come to blows. Something he prayed would never happen. He really wished his brother knew their Dad before the fire, before the hunt - the John from long ago.

He sighed loudly. That wasn't going to happen; and he'd never wish the horrors he'd experienced on his baby brother - never. Sammy would never understand John Winchester, not like Dean did – 'cause those memories hurt – a lot!

**-0- **

Gordon Walker snickered to himself from his position behind the clump of trees. It was funny how he knew exactly what John Winchester would do. He glared at the large man who was now huddled broken by the car. He jingled the car keys he'd swiped earlier from the older Winchester's coat pocket and laughed silently to himself. The man was just stupid. He smiled manically and dropped the keys with a light thud against the mossy ground. Guy did just what he thought he'd do; now Mr. Smarty Pants would either have to hike out of here for some help, or go back to his sons. Hump, tough decision. He snorted, he knew better, John Winchester would be getting those boys some help, he'd be hiking out, and he'd be going soon.

The crazy black hunter grinned excitedly. He should really hit the road, make tracks out of here. He should, but…well; this was just too damn much fun. His eyes glinted with madness as he watched the shattered hunter falling heavily to the ground. He smiled.

He wanted to leave, he really did, but something in him just wouldn't let him go. He had to finish what he'd started, he just had too, something in his crazy wacked out mind just wouldn't let go.

So, he shouldered up his backpack and stepped gingerly forward in the woods.

He smirked as he hummed lightly to himself. _Now, to take care of those boys. ___

4


	18. Chapter 18

**Drifting**

**By: **supernaturaldh

**Beta:** You are in a beta free zone, all mistakes are my own.

**Disclaimer:** Note mine, never will be.

**Chapter 18**

**Never Show your Fear **

The snap of a tree branch caught Dean's attention and he slowly lifted his head. He listened. All he could hear was the breeze blowing lightly through the trees. The chill was back in the air as the sun made a bee line to set against the graying winter sky. He tugged his little brother in as close as possible attempting to warm his freezing limbs. _Sam's so cold, where the hell is Dad? He should be back here by now; did he even make it out? _

His little brother had passed out about an hour back. He had tried several times to rouse him, but Sam was down for the count. All his big brother alarms were going off in full force. _Sam needs help and he needs it now. Please Dad, hurry._ He sucked in a weary breathe; his own side was throbbing and he was starting to feel a little woozy and weak. _Blood loss - never a good thing._

He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard the noise again. _What is that?_ His head tilted curiously. One hand immediately tugged against the shotgun that was lying by his side. His finger slid unconsciously against the trigger as he stared out around the area in the slowly dimming light. Something shuffled in the trees. _Sounds like boots moving through dried leaves._ The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as his hunter instincts kicked into high gear.

"Sorry Sammy," the older brother whispered as he moved slightly leaning his unconscious sibling back against the ground.

Sam moaned.

Dean tugged the jacket up around his little brother and patted him gently on the chest. "It'll be okay Sammy…shhhhh."

Sam stilled immediately.

Dean struggled weakly to his feet. The sky around him gave a slow and lazy tilt and he blinked his eyelids several times. He heard the noise again. His adrenaline kicked up as he felt his heart thudding loudly in his chest. He stepped protectively in front of Sam his gun rising upward inside his shaking hands.

**-0- **

Gordon Walker smiled as he practically strutted through the trees, he'd take care of these boys, John Winchester's boys, then he'd be out of here, selling the Wendigo hides and stockpiling up the money. _Yep, life is good._ He couldn't let that youngest get away; kid might get him in trouble telling John he hurt him or something. He pushed the branches and tree limbs quickly out of his way as he moved hastily down the hillside. He looked gingerly around_. I know they're here somewhere, I know it. _He heard a definite click. _Sounds like a hammer of a gun?_ He stopped. His breath caught in his throat.

"Gordon," Dean Winchester hissed out through his tightly clinched teeth.

Gordon turned slowly on the heels of boots. His eyes fell immediately to the oldest Winchester brother standing directly across from him, body shielding the still form of his beat to hell little brother. He grinned. The black hunter thought quickly, "Oh thank god, I found you." He nodded at Dean. "I came back to see if you guys needed some help. Found your father passed out up the hill there," he motioned with his head.

Dean's throat constricted. _Oh god, not Dad._ He looked with mixed emotions at the man. _Believe him? _His father's words echoed in his head. _Don't trust anyone when it comes to taking care of family_. Dean smiled. _I don't think so._

Gordon stepped closer his hands reaching out for Dean.

"You need to stop right there." Dean stated heatedly as he motioned with the barrel of his gun.

"But Dean, I'm here to help you boy."

"Yeah, sure you are," Dean snorted. "Just like you helped my brother…right?"

Gordon looked appalled.

Dean gave the hunter his best shit eating grin. _I'm on to you dip wad_.

Gordon sighed, his own finger ghosting over his hand gun hidden just inside his jacket. _Kid's not buying my bullshit_. "I really like you kid, you're not like you're father at all, you put a lot of thought into what you're doing. It's all about the hunt with him, isn't it? But you, you're different; it's all about your brother." He suddenly yanked out his hand gun and pointed it at Dean.

Dean didn't waiver, his eyes glinting a steel blue green color as he stared at Gordon's face. _Never show your fear son, never show your fear. _

Gordon's eyes veered downward to glance at Dean's profusely bleeding side. "Man, sorry about that there gunshot wound."

"Oh yeah, I am just so sure that you are." Dean pointed the barrel of his shotgun right at Gordon's face. "You used my little brother as bait, you shot me, and you probably left my Dad for dead somewhere up that hill."

Gordon laughed giddily. This kid was good.

Dean's brow furrowed. "You, my friend, are a real nut job." His finger twitched against the trigger of the shotgun.

Gordon laughed harder as his wild manic eyes gleamed brightly back at Dean. "Good times," he said in an almost frenzied shrill.

Then, the sound of gunshots echoed loudly through the woods.

**-0- **

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.

_What is that_? Dean tilted his head slightly. His eyes remained shut though as he nuzzled in closer to the pillow.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.

_What the hell is that?_ The humming sound grew louder.

He wanted to open his eyes, he really did, but he was just too damn tired to move.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.

He drifted in the void; not really awake, but definitely no longer asleep. His head hurt like a mother though, so did his side. _Why's my head hurt? _

Unfamiliar voices drifted in around him.

"This way…" A stern voice yelled.

"Over here…" said another.

"Oh god….my boys…"

"I need his BP stat…"

"Take care of my baby…please."

_Dad?_

Fingers and hands were tugging and pulling at him, and he lightly flailed to get away. Something was moving him away from the softness that was firmly underneath his head. He physically flinched at the motions; he wanted to stay right where he was. His fingers gripped tighter to the pillow he was leaning up against.

"Dean," his father's voice drifted in the distance. "Let go, son, its okay now, let go."

His fingers were tugged from the warmth he was gripping to so tightly and he felt immediate loss. He felt alone. He struggled to open up his eyes. They were just too heavy. He listened to the words around him, a lot of motions, movement. Vague whispers, Words he couldn't comprehend wafted up around him. _Why am I so freaking tired?_

"This one's unconscious, pupils fixed, dilated, two head wounds, various contusions, hypothermia…"

"IV started…"

"Move it…NOW…"

_What's going on?_ He tugged open his sluggish eyelids and blinked blankly up at the foggy figures moving all around him. He couldn't seem to focus. His eyes fell slowly closed.

He felt callus fingers fumbling in his own.

"Dean? Son?" an almost tearful voice sobbed. "Please…open your eyes."

_Dad, is that Dad?_ He raised his head slightly and forced his lead laden lids to stay open for a moment. It was dark, but bright spotlights were wavering around. One was right next to his face. He quickly shut his eyes. His body shuddered as a cold wind whipped across his limbs. He forced his eyes back open, forced them to focus, to see, and slowly his vision somewhat cleared, and his father's weary face came slowly into view.

He moaned. _What is going on here?_

"Oh thank god," John mumbled, moist eyes gazing down at his boy. He gripped Dean's hand tighter. "Lay still, son, just lay still and let them help you."

_Help me? What? Why do I need help? _He struggled to move.

"D…Dad, Wh?"

Dean's face tugged into a frown when John's strong hands forced him to lie still. He let his heavy head fall back against the cold, damp ground and sluggishly looked at his father. His mind was blank. He couldn't remember a thing. _What is going on?_ He felt something press against the side of his head. _Owe, stop that. _He flinched away from the prying hands. A light prick on his arm. _Owe! What the hell? _He jerked his arm away.

"You're okay," an unfamiliar voice mumbled.

"Take it easy son." John's said, his firm hands resting on Dean's arms.

He looked with confusion at his Dad. He attempted to zero in on his thoughts as unfamiliar hands continued to prod and probe his body. _Woods, hunting, Gordon…. _His breath suddenly caught tightly in his throat. _Sam?_ _Where's Sam?_ He jerked his head up off the ground, his weak eyes darting foggily around.

"Sam?" he croaked out in an almost painful tone.

Someone pushed him back down.

"Hold him…." a loud voice stated in a rush.

"BP's dropping," he heard another say.

It was hard to breath and his vision blurred.

"Calm him down," someone said, he figured it was directed at him.

Suddenly something warm was running up his arm, it was a weird sensation and he looked up at his Dad in confusion.

"Dean, its okay, son, just look at me," his father said almost gently.

Wide emerald green eyes looked sluggishly at John.

The father leaned down, his hand cupping at Dean's cheek. "It's okay Dean, Sam's fine, he's gonn'a be okay."

Dean heaved in a shaky breath of air and relaxed. He blinked blankly at his Dad. _Sam's okay, Dad said so._

And he let the darkness pull him down.

4


	19. Chapter 19

**Drifting**

**By: **supernaturaldh

**Beta:** You are in a beta free zone, all mistakes are my own.

**Disclaimer:** Note mine, never will be.

**Chapter 19 **

**Reality is a B….**

The tired father's head rose at the sound of the heavy metal doors swaying open, once again. His eyes darted quickly down the corridor visibly looking for anyone that could tell him anything. All he saw was a mass of movement, a whirl of green scrubs and curtains as far as his eyes could see. He sat fixated, watching, barely breathing, and praying that his boys were both okay.

And the emergency doors swung slowly shut, leaving him alone.

He exhaled raggedly and tugged his blood soaked bandaged fingers through his dirty dark brown hair. He couldn't stand not knowing, not being in control. It was killing him. He hated hospital waiting rooms, hated them with a passion - waiting just plain sucked.

He stared blankly back down at his now lukewarm cup of coffee and tugged the paper holder gradually to his lips. His banged and bandaged body protested the movement and he winced audibly. He swallowed down a gulp of the tepid mixture and slouched further in against the cold hard plastic chair. _This is sure a lame ass excuse for coffee._ At the moment though, all he needed was to stay awake, to stay in control, and be there for his boys, preferably in that order.

He drank down the last of the grimy sludge, his eyes glancing around for the garbage can, spotting it; he smashed up the paper cup and threw it toward the can. He watched silently as the mound of cardboard bounced and skidded across the dirty linoleum floor. _He shoots…_ He stared at it. _He doesn't score_ – _story of my life_. He chewed absently on his lower lip. _What the hell was I thinking taking my boys out on this hunt?_ _This whole thing was a freaking mess from the get go! _He sighed and shifted in the chair. _I should've taken better care of them, better care of Sam_. He pressed a hand against his aching chest; guilt was eating a hole inside his heart.

_**Some six hours ago – **_

Reality was a real bitch.

_No, no, no, no no… it couldn't be…no,no,no… what was I thinking? The car keys are in my jacket, my jacket that is draped across my boys_.

John Winchester wanted to kick something, wanted to kick himself. He belittled himself even further as he fell flat on his bottom against the cold hard winter ground. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. _Unbridled tears rolled slowly down his cheeks, his teeth gnawing angrily against his lower lip. He physically sagged against the side of the Impala, his emotions raw and visually unchecked. _Okay, okay, Winchester, get it together, think, think, think, think, think._ He sat silently for a long time, quietly sucking in oxygen, concussed head aching from all the work it took to clear his murky thoughts.

Slowly his head began to clear. He abruptly pushed himself to stand.

Pain spiked sharply through his skull and his vision wavered, but, he didn't stop. He reached for and grabbed up a large rock from the icy grass. In one swift motion he slammed it through the driver's window. He cringed at the sound of the breaking glass. _Man, that's gon'a leave a mark on my baby_. He hastily stuck his hand through the shattered window and opened up the door. He uncoordinatedly brushed glass shards from the seat, frowning as his ungloved fingers caught on pieces of the shiny objects and his skin was ripped and torn. He slid his heavy body across the worn black leather seat his head ducking down beneath the wheel_. I am so not hotwiring my own freaking car… _ His vision swam, but he didn't stop, didn't waiver, as the sound of the Impala's engine roared, and then it came to life.

The overwrought father moved to sit behind the wheel. His mind was running amuck, as he quickly shut the door. Fear was eating him alive. _Hurry, hurry, hurry… get my boys some help_. He hastily flung the car into gear and barreled ass down the road. His heavy foot pushed the accelerator to the floorboard as the car wavered in the wind. His bloody fingers ached as he fumbled with his cell phone and yanked it quickly from his pocket.

He stared at the phone, looking for one thing, and one thing only - reception bars. _I need bars_. His vision blurred, and he blinked. He could barely even see. He didn't care; he just needed to find cell phone reception, just needed to call for help.

The phone beeped three times and John felt his adrenaline soar. He glanced from the winding roadway to the cell phone clutched within his bloody hand. _Thank god._ He pressed both of his dirty boots against the brake and the car skidded to a halt. He slammed it into park and gripped the blood-spattered phone against his ear.

"….911, what's your emergency…"

**-0-**

John didn't realize how far out in the middle of freaking nowhere Gordon Walker had taken them until the helicopter came into his view. He lifted his weary head from the back of the bench seat and stared out into the field. He was freezing, and he was in the car with the heater on, he didn't want to think about his boys. The sun was gone, had been nearly thirty minutes. The icy wind was whipping down the hillside, howling steadily around the car as the angry grey sky spit snow out with a vengeance.

The father blinked sluggishly; obviously it was quicker to provide medical assistance with air flight than to drive a medical team up on this godforsaken mountain.

He grinned smugly to himself as he realized his eldest son would not take kindly to riding in a helicopter. _Kid has never liked airplanes, not since he saw pictures on the 5:00 news about a plane crash. Hell, he remembered that day like it was yesterday, a three year old Dean standing in front of him, tiny hands gripping at his Weeble Airplane, his eyes wide with blatant fear, "Daddy, did you know that planes can crash? _He smiled at the memory as he blinked back the moisture that was suddenly pooling in his eyes. _Please god, let my boys just be okay. _

Hecouldn't hold off the darkness anymore and his eyelids slowly drifted shut.

**-0-**

"….Sir, sir…can you hear me?"

Whosh, whosh, whosh, whosh….

"Wh…what?" John's thick tongue garbled out. He blinked blankly at the man bending over him, flashlight blaring in his eyes. _Oh God, my head hurts_. He squinted shut his eyes.

Whosh, whosh, whosh, whosh…

"Sir, we're here to help you." One voice said.

"Call said there were two more victims; we don't see anyone but you?" said another.

Adrenalin immediately cleared the father's thoughts and he pushed to set up further on the Impala's leather seat. Pain spiked inside his head.

"Easy, you got a concussion going on there sir, how'd you hit your head?"

"My…my…boys. You got to help my boys." The father flailed his hands around attempting to pull himself from the car.

"No sir, calm down. Sir, you got to calm down."

"Screw you," John yelled in his most stern military tone, "My boys are out there. Help them, please." The father almost begged. "My boys…" his face contorting up in pain.

The medics looked at one another.

Whosh, whosh, whosh, whosh…

"Okay, okay," the older medic stated, where are they?"

The second medic peered over his counterparts shoulder.

"Over there," John pointed down behind them, "Over that hill, down…down at the bottom of the next ridge," he all but sputtered out.

"Okay, sir, we got it, we'll just get you out of here and then go get them." The graying medic pushed John back against the seat.

Whosh, whosh, whosh, whosh….

"Two more victims in the gorge," the second medic spouted loudly into his walkie-talkie.

"Roger that," a loud voice garbled back.

"Screw that," John stated angrily. "I'm not leaving here without my boys." The father's dark brown eyes were dilated not just from the concussion but from the fear that pulsed inside his veins. He pushed out of the car, knocking the senior medic away from him, both of them stumbling toward the ground.

"Shit," the graying main scrambled to get back his feet. He gripped John tightly by the shoulders, steadying him. "Easy…listen, hey, hey listen…okay, you can go with us, Sir…sir, listen to me. You can go with us, just let me get you fixed up and loaded on the chopper."

John staggered in the older medics grasp, look of gratitude rising to his face.

The older medic smiled as he pushed the father to the ground, "I got boys myself."

3


	20. Chapter 20

**Drifting**

**By: **supernaturaldh

**Beta:** You are in a beta free zone, all mistakes are my own.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine never will be.

**A/N:** This story has just turned into a whopping long one. And yes I must make John suffer and redeem himself, I am bad like that. Go figure, I hope some of you hang with me. And so, we continue! Denise

**Chapter 20**

**What Kind of Father are you?**

"…Mr. Winchester…sir…"

John's eyebrows furrowed. Someone was talking really loud as they crouched down directly in front of him.

"Sir…"

John's eyes blinked open blearily from sleep to stare at the freshly pressed white jacket and green scrub clad legs.

The doctor gazed at the weary looking man. _Man needs to be in the hospital himself. _"Mr. Winchester," he said again.

John's head rose slowly from his bandaged hands and he blinked blearily up at the doctor, "What?" He mumbled. _Yeah, yeah._ "Huh?" the dazed hunter whispered.

"I'm Dr. Cavanaugh; I've been taking care of your sons."

_My boys?_ John was immediately awake. He pushed stiffly backwards, sitting straighter in the chair. _Shit, I must've dozed off. Man, my head hurts like a mother…_

The doctor's hand reached over to grip the slightly wavering man by the elbow, steadying him. "Easy there, Mr. Winchester, you got a concussion, remember?"

John nodded his acquisition and glared at the graying physician through his slightly hooded lids. "Enough about me already, "he grunted, "tell me about my boy's."

The doctor shook his head as he eased down in the seat right next to John. His clipboard filled with paper slammed against his knees. He cleared his throat.

John watched the medic's fingers as they groped absently with the ink pen gripped tightly in his hand. Part of being a hunter was noticing things, important little things like doctors fumbling for just the right words to say - never a good sign. An immediate surge of adrenaline pumped into his body. He looked wide eyed at the man. _Please god, let my boys both be okay_.

"Well, Dean," the doctor said as he glanced down at his barely legible notes, "Dean, the older one, correct?" The doctor spoke with hesitation.

John nodded silently. "Yeah, that's my eldest," a slight proud father gleam flashed across his face.

"He has a mild concussion, various contusions and a bullet wound to his side, just a flesh wound though."

John sighed and nodded with understanding.

"We've admitted him for blood loss, pumping him full of the good stuff, and I believe, barring any complications, he will make a full recovery. Be out of here tomorrow."

John felt elated, Dean would be okay.

The doctor continued. "He doesn't remember much, though, kind of lost the last couple of days. Not sure if that's the concussion or the blood loss." The doctor sighed and tapped his ink pen nervously on the clipboard, "could be due to both." He frowned. "Obviously, this hunting trip in the high country got way out of control." He said almost curiously. He looked in dismay at John. He had lots of questions, but, for now, they'd have to wait.

John snorted at the doctors words. _Man, you don't know the half of it. _"What about my youngest, Sammy?" he asked with grave concern.

"Your boy has severe hypothermia, but we are warming him up. Some bad contusions and cuts, but, I believe that he will recover from all of that without issue." The doctor paused and leaned slightly forward, his hand resting lightly on John's arm. He rolled his shoulders and sighed. _Now comes the hard part_. "He had a previous head injury, some problems, yes?" He said as he looked intently at Mr. Winchester.

John swallowed convulsively and nodded. "Yeah, my boy, he …he was in a coma for a while a few months back, he's a clumsy kid, he...he fell….he…he…" John's voice strained with raw emotion as the half truth slipped across his lips. "He lost some of his speech, they said he had aphasia, we've been taking him to therapy." _Well, Dean did…a few times._

The doctor's hand fell away. "His file says he stopped going to therapy?" The doctor eyebrows furrowed as he glared heatedly at John.

"Yeah…yeah…" John suddenly felt like a failure. "He was … he was making progress…." He offered up almost uncertainly as he faced the doctors stare.

"Well, he shouldn't stop going to therapy until he is released." The doctor spat out. "How do you think he's ever going to recover completely? Do you have medical degree or something?" _What kind of father are you?_

John cringed at the medics words. "N…no..." he stammered out. He knew the man was right.

The older doctor sighed; suddenly this guy looked pitiful and sad. He continued. "Well, the previous head injury has come into play again," the physician's voice was gentler as he continued with his words.

The father stared directly at the doctor, teeth biting so hard that blood pooled against his lip. _What kind of father am I?_ Fear clutched tightly in his chest.

"Mr. Winchester……the head injury, well, I…I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but your boy, your son, Sammy, has slipped back into a coma."

John's world suddenly tilted. _Oh god, no, no, no, not again. _He struggled to pull in some air as uncontrolled teardrops flooded to his eyes. _Oh god…my fault…oh God!_

"Easy…easy…" a sudden compassionate voice floated just beside his head as something banged against the floor.

John blinked, staring at the fuzzy papers and pen that were now rolling at his feet. _I can't breathe…Oh God, Sammy…_

A firm, yet unyielding hand grabbed him by the neck and pushed him physically forward, his body bending at the waist.

"Hey, whoa…hey...Mr. Winchester…can you hear me…hey…take it easy…just take some breathes…NURSE…SOMEBODY…HEY…I need some help out here?"

And the distraught father's world faded into black.

**-0-**

Dean nose wiggled and he frowned. The distinct smell of hospital filtered through his senses. _Oh shit…no freaking way. _He needed to open his eyes, confirm his suspicions.

"…he's waking up…" A strange voice spoke sweetly right beside his head. He heard shuffling and movement.

He felt a gruff hand grab his own, a rough thumb caressing the top of his palm.

"Dean? Son, you awake?"

His father's stern voice boomed inside Dean's head, pounded loudly in his skull.

"Wake up Dean." John ordered.

Dean blinked and pulled open his heavy weighed down eyelids; the harsh light spiked pain right through his eyeballs and he moaned. He quickly shut his eyes.

"…turn off the lights…" his father ordered someone in the room.

_Bossy much?_ He heard the click of a switch and reluctantly opened up his eyes again. He blinked sluggishly and looked at his Dad. _He looked rough, damn rough at that_.

"Dad?" his voice seemed rather scratchy from disuse. "Where…what…what happened?"

"Easy son, you're in the hospital. Remember, we had an accident while we were hunting up in the high country…remember?"

A nurse shuffled into view. "I'll tell the doctor that he's awake," the soft voice whispered in the fog.

"I don't remember." Dean whispered vaguely as he nodded slowly 'yes' realizing his father was weaving a web for just the nurse to hear. "High country…yeah." He mumbled. He closed his eyes again.

He felt John's bandaged fingers untangle from his own. _Why's Dad's finger's wrapped in gauze?_ He couldn't remember. He almost sighed at the loss of the hand that seemed to be grounding him to reality, but he knew, his father didn't like chick flick moments, ever, so he reluctantly let it go.

He blinked again and felt a cup pressed against his lips.

"Drink some water, son."

He complied, and it felt good, gurgling slowly down his parched throat.

"Not too much." And the cup was pulled away.

He felt better, more awake, and he glanced around the room. "Where's Sam?" _Why couldn't he remember? Everything was hazy. _He looked curiously at his Dad.

John sat the paper cup down on the tray table at the end of the bed and sat wearily back against the damn hard, plastic chair. He clasped his gauze covered fingers together and gazed sadly back at Dean. "What do you remember?"

Dean looked blankly at his Dad, "Huh…nothing comes to mind." He said in a slightly confused voice.

"Sam's here…Dean, he's in the hospital too."

"What," Dean's eyes widened, "What's wrong with Sam." His heart thudded loudly in his chest. _Why don't I remember? Did I hit my head_? He held his breath, waited for his father's words.

John tugged his tired bandaged fingers through his dirty, messy hair. He raised his eyes to look directly at his boy.

"Dad, what's wrong with Sam?" Dean asked anxiously again. He pushed his hands against the stiff hospital sheets, moving his aching head up further on the pillow. His side spiked a sharp pain, but he really didn't notice, his thoughts focused on one thing.

"Dean, son, he hit his head again, he's…he's in a coma."

_What? _The older brother's heart stopped, he knew it did because he couldn't catch his breath. He looked wide eyed at his Dad.

"No, Dad, he's getting better." His eyes grew round in disbelief. "Sam's getting better." He said again, his voice cracking with his words. He pushed and shoved the sheets away and whirled to set up on the bed. He flung his feet against the floor and stood up on wobbly legs.

John watched his son sway woozily. He moved quickly and grabbed his eldest by the arm. "Dean, stop it, you'll tear out your stitches."

Dean just yanked his arm away. "I don't give a shit about my stitches. You should be with him, Dad, not here with me. Where is he?"

The father sighed resignedly, ready to catch Dean if he fell.

"He's in intensive care, Dean, we can't even be in there but twice a day, so I came to set with you." He looked sadly at his son.

Dean blew out a heavy breath as his hand tugged upward to rest against his clammy brow. _Sam was getting better._

He strained his brain to think. _What the hell happened_?

He had nothing.

"Why can't I remember what happened?" he whispered again as he slumped back against the mattress gazing forlornly at his Dad. Warm teardrops welled up to his eyes.

"Get your ass back in the bed." John ordered as he pushed Dean downward toward the bed.

"No," the older brother screamed, feet firmly planted, moist eyes cutting daggers at his Dad, "No, damn it, No, I want to see Sammy…NOW!"

4


	21. Chapter 21

**Drifting**

**By: **supernaturaldh

A/N: Sorry about the delay, I am working on a story with a deadline, so I can't get to this one as much as I would like, but I haven't forgotten it and hope to finish it up soon. So hang with me. Denise

**Beta:** You are in a beta free zone, all mistakes are my own.

**Disclaimer:** Alas, they are not mine!

**Chapter 21**

**You're a Dead Man **

John nodded slightly at the petite little nurse as she locked the wheels on the wheelchair where his eldest boy now sat. He frowned and chewed against his lower lip. It was hard to see his sons in such a state, especially since he knew it was his fault.

Dean, his oldest, was setting in the wheelchair, bundled tightly in a blanket, gazing sadly at his little brother. Sam, his youngest, was laying pasty white on the pristine hospital bed, tube snaking down his throat pumping oxygen into his lungs, arms lax, eyes closed, and frail body drifting in a coma.

It broke the father's heart.

He sighed audibly and stepped closer to Dean whose fingers were now twisting and caressing his little brother's limp and pliant hand. He blinked his tired eyes. _My fault, mine… Gordon Walker you're a dead man._ Those words had become his mantra in the last twenty four hours - ringing loudly in his head. Hot anger coiled in his chest and pumped relentlessly through his veins. When the time was right, he would kill the bastard that had done this to his boys - of that much he was sure.

The father swallowed the metallic taste now resting on his tongue. He blinked his tired eyes and tugged his bandaged fingers through his dark brown dirty hair. He gazed resignedly around the room. His eyes finally landed on a chair in the corner, and he took two large steps and slumped dejectedly down against it.

**-0- **

Dean stared uncomprehendingly at the gray haired older nurse as she shuffled into the room. He sighed despairingly. His eyes glanced over to his father, sleeping awkwardly against the room's hard white plastic chair. It was late, he could tell by the shadows in the room. He didn't know how long he'd actually been sitting here with Sam - he really didn't care. Doc said he was being released tomorrow, as far as he was concerned, he was released already. He'd set here until his little brother opened up his eyes. End of story.

He watched as the nurse moved quietly around Sam's bed, taking his vitals, checking on his IV's; the constant pump of the ventilator the only noise inside the room. He wished he could remember exactly what had happened, how he and his little brother had ended in this state. He yawned.

A gruff voice broke into his thoughts. "You need to go back to your room," the nurse stated abrasively. She reached her fingers downward and released the locks on his wheelchair.

Dean looked around at her, his fingers still holding tightly to Sam's hand. _What the hell does she think she's doing?_

Sam's heart monitored rose an octave to a wail.

"No," Dean whispered as he glanced back at Sam; his fingers tightening their grip.

The nurse looked at the monitor then back again to Dean. She pushed the chair slightly from his position by the bed.

"No," Dean stated again, his hands letting go of Sam to slip down and grasp the wobbly set of wheels.

"Visiting hours are over," the elderly woman said with a slight arrogance in her tone. She looked from Dean to his brother.

Sam's machines fluctuated again and she released her grip on the wheel chair handles and moved silently back toward Sam. She adjusted some buttons on the machines. She frowned.

"I'm not leaving him," Dean's voice quivered as his fingers clutched tightly at Sam's hand again.

"Mr. Winchester," the nurse advised with an audible hiss, "You should be in your own room sleeping in the bed."

"I told you already, I'm not leaving him."

"But sir, I'm afraid that you are" the nurse said firmly, hint of anger cresting in her voice. She reached again for the wheelchair.

Suddenly, Sam's head tilted slightly toward his older brother. A minor motion, but one Dean noticed all the same.

"Stop," Dean's eyes filled with moisture. He was sure that Sam was waking up. "My brother needs me here, Please," his tone was suddenly very young and almost pleading.

The nurse ignored his words, grabbed the handles on the wheel chair and began to push him away from Sam.

"You heard my boy," John said firmly, his sleep muffled voice growing louder with each word he spoke. The hard plastic chair scrapped loudly against the floor as he shoved it backward, pushing to stand on too tired aching legs. The large hunter stood stoically looming over the nurse, eyes defying her to make a move.

The nurse shrunk backwards but looked heatedly up at John. "Sir, you were both advised you can't stay in this room." She stammered out in flustration.

"Well we don't give a shit," John said bluntly, "We're not leaving Sam."

The nurse blew out an angry breath of air but relinquished her hold against Dean's wheel-chair.

"Well, we'll just see about that." She stormed immediately from the room.

The doorway swung shut with a loud resounding bang.

Dean chuckled lightly, "I think you pissed her off Dad,"

John laughed, "No shit."

"Look Dad…" Dean said in a whisper.

Sam's long lashes fluttered.

John glanced at his youngest. _Is he leaning in toward Dean_? He moved to stand beside his oldest boy's position by the bed. "Did he just move?" he asked Dean almost hesitantly.

"Yeah," Dean said as silent tears rolled slowly down his face. "He did."

John gave his eldest son's shoulder a tight squeeze. It was something. He didn't say a word as he listened for a long time as Dean's weary voice whispered words of encouragement to Sam.

Several hours passed and no one ever came to force them to leave their youngest alone. Good for them, John had thought. In fact, when the doctor came in later to check on Sam, he decided immediately that both of them could stay - Amazing.

"You two are helping him; please keep doing whatever it is that you're doing."

Both the Winchesters nodded their head in acquisition. They'd been here before unfortunately, they knew what to do for Sam.

"Sammy, it's time to wake up now," Fingers rubbed gently up and down his little brother's arm. "Come on kiddo, open up those hazel eyes for me."

The doctor finished his checks on the youngest Winchester then backed silently toward the door. "I'll tell the nurses, you're here for the duration." He whispered. He wasn't sure if they'd even heard him, both engrossed totally in their youngest family member. If they did, he didn't notice.

A gruff voice filtered in against the doctor's ears.

"Come on son, open up your eyes for Daddy."

The doctor smiled and slowly closed the door.

**-0-**

The hospital corridors were dark, the dim light from the nurse station revealing the only movement on the floor. It was way past midnight and John had one thing on this mind. _Strong black coffee for him and his oldest boy! _He'd left Dean sitting vigilantly with Sam, talking nonstop as his youngest, who seemed to be slowly coming back around.

He almost stumbled to the vending machine area and dug change from his pockets. He eyed the vending machine with as much anticipation as he could muster for the steaming concoction that Dean had and he both desperately needed at this point. Sludge, Dean had called it. He smiled at the thought. His eldest had such a way with words.

A cup was dispensed, the thick black liquid filling up the container as the smell wafted up to the older hunter's nose. He blinked; the smell alone tingled at his tired senses. It wasn't much, but it would keep them awake, awake until Sam came back to them.

He sat the filled up plastic cup against the tabletop and quickly groped around for more quarters. _Seventy-five cents a cup, this was highway robbery!_ A light shuffling behind him had him turning quickly on his shoes. A strangers hand held out three quarters, encouraging him to take them.

"Here, it's on me, Mr. Winchester."

John was about to pull out his handgun, but remembered he was in a hospital caused him to hesitate for a moment, brown eyes glaring at the man.

"Mr. Winchester?" the young man said again. He was a cop that much John could tell. _Oh Great…cops… keep it together, tell them the story. _

"Yes sir, that'd be me. He smiled warmly at the policeman and yanked the quarters from his hand.

"I'm Officer Putnam; it was my team that got you and your son's out of the woods yesterday."

John nodded as he sat the second cup of steaming sludge down against the tabletop and smiled. He extended his hand. "Thank you so much, all of you, there are no words I can say." He shook the policeman's hand firmly. He blinked back the moisture that suddenly welled up in his eyes. _Shit, keep it together here, suck it up. The boys are fine._

"Can we talk for a moment?" The officer nodded at some chairs across the way. "I just have a few questions, you know, to finish up my report."

John moved across and slumped to one of the seats. "Just hurry it up please; I got to get back to my boys."

Officer Putnam nodded in understanding, "So, you guys were hunting in the woods and somehow got lost?"

"Yes."

The officer continued, "And there was a forth party in the group, the one that knocked you in the head, who shot your eldest, and beat up your youngest."

"Yes," _Damn Gordon Walker's ass. _"I shot him."_ The father took the blame. _"It's like he went crazy…" Anger rose up to his face as he fought to stay in control.

"Mr. Winchester," the officer paused, looking from John's angry face and back down at the floor. "Yeah, this guy, Gordon Walker, he has a record from way back. According to what I've read on him, he's a strange sort of guy." He grinned firmly back at John.

"No freaking kidding," John huffed out, dragging his fingers through his hair.

"Well, I'm sorry to tell you this, but, we couldn't find him out there, anywhere….so if you shot him, well, we didn't find a lot of blood. And since you had a head wound and so did your sons, well, he wasn't there. The policeman's words trailed off. "It's as if he vanished."

John frowned at that. The lousy son of a bitch, he's going to wish he was gone. He slowly smiled. He knew he'd make sure Gordon got what was coming to him. No need to worry the cops. "Maybe something ate him." He said smugly as he stood back up and reached to grab the lukewarm cups of coffee.

The officer looked stunned.

"Lot of bears and stuff out there you know." John grinned almost wickedly.

A light chuckle drifted past the officers lips. "Well, maybe so," he offered in agreement. "We have an APB out on him, if we find him, well, I have your cell phone number, and I'll keep you posted.

John stood, "Okay, that'd be great." He nodded at the now grinning policeman and moved silently back down the hall. In his minds eye he was visualizing Gordon Walker being eaten by an angry Wendigo – and that just made him smile.

4


	22. Chapter 22

**Drifting**

**By: **supernaturaldh

**A/N:** Thanks for sticking with me this long.

**Beta:** You are in a beta free zone, all mistakes are my own.

**Disclaimer:** Alas, they are not mine!

**Chapter 22**

**Finding Your Way Back Home**

The fog that covered him was heavy, dense and thick, and it scared him desperately so. He wanted to run from it, to get away, to move, but his body didn't seem to want to cooperate, so he floundered there, not knowing what he needed to do to get away. He could hear talking, mumbling words around him that he couldn't quite make out.

"…am…Sam…Sammy, come on dude, open up your eyes. You can't…" the soft familiar voice cracked, "P…Pl…please, Sam, just…"

_Dean? _It was Dean. His older brother's words were rambling, continuous, and sounded a lot like he'd been crying. _What is that about?_ He wanted to wake up, to do as he was told, so he pushed against the darkness. He could feel warm fingers as they clung to his hand gently caressing up and down his arm. _Dean._

Dean watched his brother's lashes flutter. "Sammy, come on man, I know you can hear me. You can do it, look at me Sam, please"

Sam felt warm fingers curling around his own, wanted to grasp the digits back. But, he couldn't, his arms were like lead balloons, his thoughts unfocused and unclear.

"Please Sammy." Dean's tone was begging now.

Sam didn't like it. So he fought harder. He wanted desperately to open up his eyes.

Suddenly, a gruff voice whispered loudly, a hot breath brushing on his face. "Sam, open up your eyes…you hear me boy, you do it right now." The loud voice was demanding.

_Dad? _

"Dad," Dean hissed, "Don't yell at him like that."

John glanced across the bed at Dean. "Damn it son, I can't…." the older man's voice cracked as moisture welled up in his bloodshot dark brown eyes.

Dean nodded silently, all his anger dissipating with his father's unexpected tears. He blinked back his own teardrops and gazed down at his little brother. His fingers grasped Sam's tighter in his own. "Come one kiddo, you can do it."

Sam's heart thudded loudly in his ears. _Why is Dad upset?_ He felt his father's callus fingers tugging through his hair then brush roughly down his cheek. _Was his older, "I don't do chick flick moments" brother actually clutching at his hand._ _What the hell?_

He was scared now.

**-0-**

Six hours later and Dean lifted his weary head from its perch on the rumpled hospital sheet next to Sam's lax hand. The merciless waiting was grating on his nerves. It had been hours, too many to even count. He was so tired. He needed to lie down. He felt shaky, his own injuries making him exhausted and in bad need of some rest. "Open your eyes up kiddo," he whispered once again as he let out a weary sigh.

Another voice spoke up from the other side of the bed. "Damn it Sam, you open your eyes son, right now," the fathers voice demanded, "That's an order boy."

"Dad…" Dean scoffed again at his father's harsh, unfeeling tone. He knew their Dad was getting to the end of his tether; the guilt was eating him alive. He rolled his bloodshot eyes. _Some things never changed. _They'd been holding each other together in the face of Sammy never waking up, begging his unconscious little brother to make his way back home to them.

He looked at Sam's pale face. _What was that?_ _Did Sam's head just move toward his father's voice? _

"Did he just move his head?" Dean whispered anxiously as he pushed up from the chair, he grabbed his brother's fingers gently in his own.

Both men stepped, if possible, even closer toward the bed.

Sam's long lashes fluttered.

Dean almost laughed uncontrollably as he glanced over to see his Dad's lips curling slightly to a grin.

"I think he heard me that time," the father said almost giddily.

Dean tugged on Sammy's hand. "Come on Sam," he encouraged, "time to wake up princess, sleep time is over."

Sam's face went slack again.

"Sam Winchester, you open up your eyes, RIGHT NOW!" John Winchester lost it as his voice bellowed through the room.

That seemed to get a rouse out of Sammy as his head rolled side to side. His weak fingers curling and uncurling loosely in his older brothers grasp.

Dean squeezed Sam's fingers till he knew that it would hurt. _Wake up kid._ He was rewarded when sluggish hazel eyes finally silted open and looked dazedly up at him.

"Thank god," John heaved out a weary sigh. It'd been three days of waiting, praying, and hoping, believing that Sam might never wake back up. He felt relief course quickly through his veins. He's going to be okay. He's going to be okay.

Warm tears rose to Dean's emerald eyes and he moved closer to Sam's face. His gentle fingers brushed the too long bangs away from Sam's bleary eyes. "Hey there kid." He blinked back his own wayward tears, a small smile curling to his lips.

John just stared at his youngest, emotions ramming through his chest. _Oh thank god, thank god, thank god._ He felt tears roll slowly down his face, but he didn't care, his youngest was awake.

Sam blinked slowly. He stared blankly up at Dean. Slow comprehension dawned gradually on his face. Within seconds his eyes grew wide with fear._ I can't…help me Dean, I can't breathe. _

Dean watched as his little brother began to choke. He registered the alarm on Sam's face, heard the beeping of machines, saw the panic that washed up to his brothers hazel eyes.

Sam's arms flew up, his fingers unexpectedly clamoring and clawing at his neck, in a wild attempt to remove the tube stuck firmly down his throat.

"Whoa," Dean quickly leaned forward, grabbing Sam's flying arms, holding them firmly down against his brother's sides. "Easy, easy there kiddo...some help here, please?" He glanced up at their Dad. "DAD?" he shouted across the bed at John.

John blinked in confusion. _What?_ _Oh Shit!_ Suddenly he jumped into action. His hands darted for the call button, his fingers pushing frantically against it. "It's okay Sam." He blurted out as he ran quickly to the doorway, "HEY," He yelled loudly down the hall, "We need some help in here…" He glanced back at his boys, "NOW!"

A mass confusion descended on the room - - -

**-0- **

Dean leaned his tired frame back against the cold hospital wall. He crossed his arms, his weary eyes watching the closed door across the way. He and his father had been absconded to the hallway while the doctors took a look at Sam. He hadn't wanted to leave, had fought it all the way, but in the end his father ordered him to move away from his little brothers side. So now, they both stood stoically in the hallway, staring blankly at the doorway that kept them in the dark.

Second's drug into minutes, and minutes into too much time for Dean to bear, "What the hell is going on in there?" He pushed away from the wall, his aching body, his throbbing side fighting his motions, but the fear gave him renewed strength, an adrenaline pumping through his veins. He moved to push against the door.

"Just…wait Dean…" John grabbed him by the arm, halting his movements. "Just give them a minute son, I know you want to be in there, hell, so do I, but we need to let them do their jobs."

Dean nodded slowly, not in acquisition, as he was getting into that room in the next couple of minutes one way or the other, but in resignation, that his father was right, he did need to let the doctors help his little brother.

The door suddenly pushed open, several nurses and doctors moving quickly from the room.

Dean pushed past them, back inside, back up to Sammy's side.

John moved forward intent on doing the same, but a strong hand rested on his forearm, dragging him back into the hall.

"Mr. Winchester, I need to talk to you about your boy." The doctor said.

John nodded in hesitant acquisition at the doctor, then turned his head and watched in silence as his eldest went directly back to Sam.

The doorway to the hospital room was pushed abruptly shut.

**-0-**

The mechanical device that had been rammed down Sam's throat only moments before was now gone, replaced with a clear oxygen mask pumping oxygen into his brother's lungs. Dean smiled, Sam's eyes were closed, and if he didn't know better, he'd say his little brother was in a peaceful sleep.

"Sammy?" he whispered as gently as he could, tender fingers brushing the matted hair off of his brother's resting face.

He was rewarded when deep hazel eyes blinked sluggishly open and gazed quizzically back at him.

"…ean?"

3


	23. Chapter 23

**Drifting**

**By: **supernaturaldh

**A/N:** Thanks for sticking with me this long.

**Beta:** You are in a beta free zone, all mistakes are my own.

**Disclaimer:** Alas, they are not mine!

**Chapter 23**

**The Awakening**

John Winchester didn't want to be out here standing in the freaking hallway with this doctor; he wanted to be in there with his boy. _This better be really good._ He glared at the physician as he watched the nurses and other doctors filing in and out of Sammy's room.

He watched his oldest as he moved hastily to his brother's side. He saw Dean glance at him before the door abruptly shut.

The father looked blankly at the doctor who now stood directly in front of him.

"Let's have a seat," the graying medic said as he steered John toward the couch across the hallway.

John grimaced. _Damn doctor had something on his mind._

He blew out a weary sigh. _Sam is awake, thank god, and Dean is with him, that's all that really matters. _He attempted to rein in his anger at Gordon, at himself, for taking Sammy on the hunt. He really needed to get past his issues and focus on getting both his boys well.

"Mr. Winchester," the doctor leaned in closer drawing the hunter from his thoughts. "You're boy, well, he's been through a lot, and I just, I don't want you and your older son…well, I don't want you to get your hopes up. Remember, Samuel had a head injury before, and now… this coma…" the doctor's words trailed off.

John tilted his head slightly, the color draining from his face. _What does that mean? Sam's awake, he's good. _

"Samuel had aphasia before, and well, this might just make it worse. He may," the doctor chewed his lower lip. "He may have some additional issues."

John's eyes grew wide in horror and concern.

"Only time will tell," the doctor of medicine quietly reassured, "We will know more as he wakes up fully and we can assess him more closely."

John brought his hand up, fingers squeezing roughly at the bridge of his nose. _No, no, please don't tell me that._

The doctor rested his hand on John's flexed elbow. "I know this is hard," he reassured the father, "But you need to be prepared."

"Sam will be fine," he mumbled. _And I will never be prepared._

The physician stood silently. He gave the older man a slight nod of his head. _Sometimes, I really hate this job._ He sighed audibly and slowly walked back down the hall.

**-0-**

Sam blinked slowly, looking at the hazy figure floating just above his face, a fleeting though drifted in his head. _My throat hurts_. His throat felt like someone had rubbed it raw with sandpaper. His body felt so heavy, like it weighed a million pounds. His breath caught in his chest as fear radiated from his being. _Where am I? Dean?_

"Whoa, easy there Sammy, calm down little brother, you're okay."

He calmed immediately.

The older brother moved in closer, his voice whispering evenly into his little brother's ear. He ghosted his fingers lightly through his brothers mussed and matted hair. He watched as Sam blinked again and forced his bleary eyes to focus. He couldn't help the relief as it washed across his face.

"You're okay," Dean cooed.

Sam swallowed convulsively; he wanted to tell his brother he was fine. He licked his dry cracked lips. He couldn't get the words out.

Suddenly, something was pulled up to his face.

"Drink, little sips." The older brother said gently.

He did as he was told.

The cool water cascaded down his throat, it felt good, and he eagerly gulped the liquid down.

"Easy…"

The cup was suddenly moved away.

_Wait. _He wasn't done yet.

He looked through hooded eyes at his brother's fuzzy form.

He blinked sluggishly.

He felt gentle fingers cascading through his hair again, lulling, consoling, comforting as he leaned into the touch and his eyelids slowly shut.

"It's okay Sammy, you can rest. I'll be right here when you wake up."

**-0- **

John regained his composure and walked steadfastly back toward the hospital room. His boy would be just fine. He would see to that.

On entering the room he immediately noticed how pale his eldest was; he guessed being shot by a crazy man could do that to a guy. The kid needed to rest. He moved forward to the plastic chair on the opposite side of the bed, his eyes fixated on Sam.

"He say anything yet?" He asked Dean inquisitively.

"Not much," Dean responded tiredly as he looked up at his Dad, "but he knew that I was here."

That alone made both the hunters smile.

"That's good, that's real good."

The overwrought father tugged his hand up across his burning eyes, never leaving the face of his youngest. _Please god let him be okay_. He reached his fingers out to grasp Sam's other hand, the one Dean didn't have a vice grip on already, and held it loosely in his own.

**-0- **

The next time Sam awoke he was more coherent, eyes looking blankly all around the room. Hazel slits took in his older brother slumped fast asleep. The little brother smiled. Dean was leaning, arms crossed, against the wrinkled bed, peaceful sleeping face turned up to look at Sam. He blinked to clear away the cobwebs. _Why am I in the hospital? I don't remember coming here? _ He gazed perplexedly around the room his tired eyes finally coming to rest on his father's snoring, drooling form. _Man that chair looks uncomfortable. _

He swallowed down the dryness in his throat. His throat felt really parched, like he'd been a sleep a million years. He eyed the paper cup setting on the hospital table. He swallowed convulsively and attempted to move his shaky hand to reach it, but something tugged against his wrist. He looked down curiously at the IV boring in his arm. He licked his parched lips again. He really wanted a drink, but there was no way he could reach it, he was having trouble getting his hand to move. He felt exhausted as he sagged back in the bed.

"E D..." he stuttered. _What? That wasn't what I was trying to say? _

He tried again.

"Dh…" He couldn't seem to get his brother's name to pass across his lips.

He frowned. He remembered before, he was talking better. He remembered.

He struggled again, attempting to say his brother's name.

"Eh...D."

Fear welled up in his chest. He couldn't make his mouth say what his brain was thinking, getting his tongue to say his brother's name. Warm tears rose up in his eyes as anxiety slammed hard against his chest. He couldn't catch his breath. _What's wrong with me? Dean!!!_

He attempted again to move his arm, wide eyes looking at the side of his older brother's head, Dean still sleeping unaware.

His hand uncoordinatedly flailed downward and bonked his brother in the face. _Why can't I move my arm right?_

Dean's immediately darted awake, setting up straighter in the chair. _Who hit me?_ _What the hell?_ He rubbed his hand across his tired face. He blinked once as he looked at Sam. Suddenly, he was wide awake and he moved hastily to stand beside the bed. _Is Sam crying?_

"Sammy?" he said, his voice heavy with concern.

3


	24. Chapter 24

**Drifting**

**By: **supernaturaldh

**A/N:** Thanks for sticking with me this long.

**Beta:** You are in a beta free zone, all mistakes are my own.

**Disclaimer:** Alas, they are not mine!

**Chapter 24**

**Asking for Some Hope**

Warm tears welled to Sam's eyelids and he attempted to blink them back.

"Sam?" Dean's concerned voice whispered beside the bed.

Sam turned his head slightly to look forlornly at his older brother. He didn't want to be like this, he wanted to be better. He was getting better, he remembered it; he hadn't dreamt it, had he?

"It's all going to be okay Sammy, you'll see."

Sam closed his eyes.

He was so tired.

He felt his brother's gentle fingers brush away the dampness on his face as he drifted back toward sleep. _ Dean is here, it will be okay, Dean says so. _

**-0- **

John Winchester sat up higher in the chair as the doorway to Sam's room opened and another doctor made his way inside.

Dean cleared his throat unconsciously as he reached over, and then suddenly he held back, his brother was awake now and he wouldn't want Dean embarrassing him by holding his hand. He rested his own fingers reluctantly against the sheet. He'd stopped holding Sam's hand in public when the kid was six years old.He smiled at the memory but held his urge at bay.

John nodded at the doctor and stood, moving closer to the bed.

The father and big brother had watched their youngest going through a battery of tests all day long. The commotion of doctors and nurses coming in and out of Sam's room had been relentless. Neither was sure that Sam was up for another test. The kid had fallen into a deep and weary sleep just a little while ago.

This doctor seemed different though, young, smart, totally a nerd, Dean thought with a grin.

"Good Evening," the physician said loudly, "I'm Doctor Fuji and I am here with Samuels test results."

Both men looked at the physician. He couldn't be old, just out of school.

John chewed his lower lip. This one thought he had all the answers, he could tell by the way he looked. The father gave a nervous sigh. _Just wait, give him a chance. _

Fear edged its way to the forefront of Dean's mind. He just wanted Sam to be okay.

"Sam," Dean said quietly, his hand rubbing lightly down his little brothers arm. "The doctor's here."

Sam's eyes blinked open, confusion obvious on his face. He gazed bleary eyed at the doctor.

The doctor cleared his throat. "I promise, this won't be too painful," he smiled happily at Sam. "As you know Samuel, sometimes with aphasia and multiple head trauma the patient can experience residual effects, poor hand eye coordination, slurring of the words, trouble swallowing…."

Dean could see his little brother's body stiffen. What the hell is wrong with this guy; just scare the kid to death?" His brow furrowed. He looked across at John.

John cleared his throat. He stared at the medic for a moment, and then his eye began to twitch. He grunted slightly.

The doctor shuffled uncomfortably from one shoe to the other as he gazed up at the father. He didn't look to happy for some reason? He looked back down at Sam and continued, "In some cases the patient never recovers full use of their functionality…"

In one giant motion, John grabbed the doctor by the jacket and dragged him toward the door. He shoved him through the opening, and glanced back to see his boy.

Sam looked extremely pale and seemed to be having trouble getting air.

John looked at Dean, who nodded at his Dad. His son was already on top of the situation.

"It's okay, Sam…just breath, little brother." Dean was leaning over Sam brushing his fingers lightly through his hair.

"Sir, now, Sir, please take your hands off me." The doctor yanked himself away from John's grasp as he stumbled into the hall.

The father was livid. He whirled abruptly on the man. "Where do you get off talking like that in front of my boy? What the hell?"

"Sir, it's my opinion that you, and your son, well, you both need to be realistic about this," the smart ass doctor stammered.

"My son will recover; you can just take your opinion and shove it." The irate father pointed his finger at the man. He saw red, he was shaking, his eyes wild and full of parental anger.

The doctor was suddenly afraid. Very afraid, and he took a step back.

John stepped forward, basically pinning the doctor up against the wall. His fingers curled into fists as he fought to stay in control.

Patent leather shoes clicked loudly on the linoleum as another, older, physician came running up the hall. He skidded to a halt in front of John, standing between him and Dr. Fuji. His firm hand setting on John's chest.

"Sir, sir, I am sorry…just calm down, Sir…"

John's breath heaved heavy in his chest. He so wanted to kick this doctor's ass.

The older medic looked John directly in the eye.

John could see the concern dwelling there, the sincerity inside the physician's words. "Sir, I'm Doctor Amos, I'm the head doctor here. If Doctor Fugi has upset you, I'm sorry. Just please," he almost begged, "Please don't do something that we both might live to regret."

John sighed loudly; he pushed away from the wide eyed Doctor Fugi, his hands flailing upward, palms out, as he moved silently away. _I give, but it's not 'cause I don't want to kick your ass…too many witnesses._

Doctor Fugi glared at John as he stood shakily and straightened up his coat.

Doctor Amos yanked the clip board from the younger doctor's hand. "I'll take care of this Thomas, you just need to go."

"But, but, "the resident stammered out, "I was just being realistic, didn't want to give them false hope."

Doctor Amos nudged the physician forward, pushing him slightly down the hall, "Sometime hope is all we have." He whispered. He glared at the younger man's back. With that, he turned to look at the disheveled father in front of him. _Damn residents going to be the death of me yet. Need to work on his bedside manner. _

"Mr. Winchester," he looked down at the clipboard and smiled back up at John. "I am sorry, he's new, just a kid really," he shuffled slightly on his shoes, eyes fixated and focused on the man in front of him. He could tell this man was a father, and would, if necessary, do anything to protect his child. "Never send a boy to do a man's job." He grinned slightly at John, "You know, young, hard headed, headstrong…." The old medic rolled his eyes.

John smiled slightly; he understood that, he had headstrong kids himself. His body visibly relaxed.

"What you say we talk about your boy." The doctored motioned toward the doorway to Sam's room.

John nodded all his anger dissipating as he moved quickly forward toward his Sam's room. He prayed silently that this doctor, this man who seemed to care, was going to give them something positive to go on, tell them Sammy was okay.

**-0- **

Dr. Amos smiled warmly at the young man looking wide eyed at him from the bed. He recognized the intense concern projected by the emerald green eyes of his older brother standing next him. He was sure the last few minutes had been traumatic on the kid, on his brother, and on the father that had lead him hastily back into the room. _Doctor Fugi's bed-side manner lacked a lot to be desired._ He glanced down at the clipboard, eyes scanning the information quickly. He remembered this case from the physicians meeting earlier in the day. _I should've done this one myself._ He sighed silently, dropping the clipboard down against the bed.

"Samuel, my name is Doctor Amos, and I want to offer my apologies for my counter parts behavior."

Dean huffed, "That's an an understatement."

"Dean," John stated firmly, "Give the man a chance."

Dean rolled his eyes. He felt his little brother's fingers slide into his own. _Is Sam holding my hand? I thought brothers didn't hold hands?_ He smiled slightly and then tightened his grip on Sam's lax fingers. _Screw that notion, big brothers could hold little brothers hands if certain circumstances warranted it, and this, well it obviously was one of those_

The young man lying on the bed glanced from his father to his brother, hesitant, waiting for assurances that everything would be okay.

"It's okay, Sammy." Dean whispered as he squeezed his little brother fingers in his own.

Sam looked back up at the doctor, fear filled eyes asking for some hope.

3


	25. Chapter 25

**Drifting**

**By: **supernaturaldh

**Beta:** Sorry, you are in a beta free zone, all mistakes are my own.

**A/N:** Life and work got in the way of my writing. I can't believe I never finished this. I humbly ask for forgiveness.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own them, but man, I wished I did.

**Chapter 25 **

**Hope **

Doctor Amos smiled warmly at the seventeen year old gazing back at him. This kid needed hope; some reassurance that he could have his life back. "This has been a setback in your recovery, Samuel; I'm not going to lie to you about that, but..."

Sam swallowed. He looked down fingers tiredly fiddling with the sheet. _I don't want to know. He's going to tell me that I'll never talk okay again. _He closed his eyes, felt firm fingers tighten around his shaky hand.

"Understatement of the year - Huh Sammy?"

Dean grins, an attempt to lighten up the moment. He grips his little brother's wrist.

Sam opens his eyes and looks at Dean. His brother is rubbing circles on the top of his lax hand. He blinks back the moisture that has suddenly welled up in his eyes. He looks with trepidation back at Doctor Amos.

"Dean," the stoic father glared at his eldest. _This is serious_. He takes a deep breath, lets it out, and attempts to relax his muscles in anticipation of what he's afraid to hear_. What if Sam doesn't recover, what if Sam never can talk right again? What then? _Guilt was niggling at his gut. "A setback?" he says almost heatedly as he gazed intensely at the doc.

The physician nodded at the father.

"I reviewed Sam's test results, talked to his previous doctor," the doctor states flatly. "_If_, he resumes his therapy sessions, and, _if_ he gets lots of rest, and _if _he takes care of himself, well," the doctor's lips curled in a smile. "Barring any further complications, he should make a full recovery."

John felt the adrenaline drain quickly from his limbs. He looked at the doctor a wide grin rising to his lips. _Did I just hear him right?_

"Yes," Dean said almost giddily, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. "What'd I tell ya, huh, little brother, what'd I tell ya?"

"That's good…that's good…" the weary father whispered.

Dean grinned at Sam.

Sam looked with relief from Dean's face to his Dad. _The doctor said I'd be okay?_

"We'll talk more tomorrow, Mr. Winchester, set up his therapy sessions, and work toward getting Samuel out of here."

John stood quickly up extending out his rugged hand, "Thank you," his voice most choking in his throat, "thank you so much."

The doctor looked at man in front of him. _This father wasn't as harsh as he'd first come across. It was obvious, this man, loved his boys_. "You're welcome," he grinned, gripped the father's hand in his own and then shuffled lightly from the room. _Some days this job isn't so bad at all. _

"Told ya," Dean said giddily again. He squeezed his baby brother's fingers in his own.

Sam blinked sluggishly at his older brother. He yawned.

John stepped forward and patted his youngest son lightly on his blanket covered knee. "You just rest now Sammy. Concentrate on getting well."

Dean looked wide eyed from Sam to their father. _Did he just tell Sam to concentrate on getting well? _

**-0-**

John Winchester glanced down at the apartment keys that were dangling in his hand. His eyes gleamed. He thought Sam would like it here. It was only a six month lease, but long enough for Sam to recover. It hadn't been easy for him to find a long term place to stay that was within walking distance of the hospital and the therapy his young son would have to have. Yes sir, this time they were sticking around this time until Sam Winchester was well.

He sighed loudly. He would most definitely thank Bobby next time he saw him, for giving him a loan, helping him to get his boys a place to stay.

He stuffed the keys in his coat pocket, and started up the car.

-**0-**

Dean smiled at the petite blond nurse who had come to help get his brother ready to leave the hospital. "Well, hello there."

"I have your paperwork ready, Sam." She said as she glanced from Sam to Dean. "I'll just leave it so you can read through it and sign."

Dean watched her leave the room. "Man Sammy, I could use some of that tender loving care."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"What?" the older brother grinned.

Normally, Winchester's didn't go for all the formal check out rules, but amazingly, this time, John had relented, and said Sam was in for the full hospital experience.

Dean stood, stretched his arms over his head, and then walked to the window looking out for his father's car.

"W'n'dr w...what take," Sam scowled as he struggled with the words.

Dean turned and looked at his little brother. "Slow down think about what you want to say, Sam."

Sam's lips curled up slightly as a determined look tugged up to his face.

Dean stood silently, encouragement written on his face.

"Won...der…wh...What…is...taking...taking…D...Dad so long?"

Sam grinned, eyes gleaming. _I did it._

Dean's hand patted his little brother lightly on the knee.

"He probably stopped off for a beer." Dean sighed and blew out a wary breath of air. _Damn his father._ He slid back down to the worn out plastic chair. He knew his brother would have already recovered if his father hadn't pushed so freaking hard. He hoped that was all behind them this time or at least until his brother recovered.

**-0- **

"Dad," Dean said as he watched the Casa Motel move past the passenger window as the car continued down the road. "You missed the turn for the motel." He looked from the window to his father.

"We aren't staying there anymore." The father replied, "And I already packed up all your stuff, it's in the trunk."

Dean looked surprised. "What? Why? " _He was not allowing his father to drag his recovering little brother around the countryside again._

"Ah…" the father cleared his throat in nervous agitation. He looked slightly uncomfortable.

"I got an apartment," John then glanced across at Dean.

"Oh." Dean was shocked.

"For Sammy," the father said as he looked up in the dash mirror at the figure swaddled in blankets sleeping on the back seat of the car.

A smile tugged to the older brother's lips.

**-0- **

"Sam…Sammy?"

Sam felt someone gently shaking him. His eyes blinked open. He was lying on his back, in the Impala; he recognized the roof, the feel of the worn leather, the smells that reminded him of home. He looked up at Dean.

"Rise and shine Sammy."

Sam pushed to set up. He blinked tiredly at Dean.

"We…we at...the...m...motel already?"

"You fell asleep, kiddo. But where're here." Dean nodded and smiled a crooked smile.

If Sam didn't know better, he'd think his big brother was up to no good. He had a wicked grin on his face.

"Where's Dad?" Sam inquired as he slid his feet to the ground.

Dean gripped him tightly by the arm.

"I'm right here son."

Sam's head darted up. He looked over at his Dad who was closing up the trunk. He had all three of their duffle bags slung over his shoulder, a strange key dangling from his hand.

Sam looked confused. "This isn't a motel?" he stated. He stared at the neatly manicured courtyard, and the brightly painted doors.

"Man you are so fast on the uptake Sam." Dean chuckled.

"Dean," John said in exasperation. "No Sam, it's not a motel. I got us an apartment for the next six month. No moving around, just therapy and downtime. "

John winked at Dean and moved quickly from the trunk toward Apartment 101.

Sam's mouth fell open. "What?" he said in stunned surprise.

"Looks like Dad's letting you put down roots for a while this time, kiddo. He got a job at a mechanic shop up the road and everything."

Sam looked stunned.

Dean grinned brightly as he led his brother into the furnished apartment. He sat down on the couch next to Sam. His little brother looked awe struck.

It made Dean feel good.

Sam nuzzled in against Dean's shoulder, and then, promptly fell asleep.

Dean heard his father banging around in the kitchen, and then, he appeared in the doorway, two beers perched inside his hands.

"Want one," he said as he handed a cold beer to Dean.

The father looked happily down at his youngest_. I am doing the right thing here, I know it_.

Dean smiled at his father as he took up a seat in the corner and turned the television on. He knew it wasn't much, but it meant the world to him that his father was finally putting Sammy first.

**END!**

5


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